


The Killing Curse

by Robin_Mask



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Bisexuality, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Mask/pseuds/Robin_Mask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus had survived the horrors of his youth, the torment of his peers, and the bite of Nagini . . . </p><p>He was - however - sure to not survive the 'love' of Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of an old story on FF.N . . .

** Chapter One **

Severus looked at the vial.

He nearly considered destroying the wretched thing, but something prevented him from smashing the glass and watching the contents fade away. It was foolish sentimentality and nothing more. There was no greater blasphemy than to allow his memories to exist in a real and tangible form, and – whilst that had been fine when he believed himself to be dying, knowing they would shed light onto dark matters – it was different now. The world now knew the humiliating truth, so what reason did he have to keep them further?

It felt . . . _violating_ . . . to know that his memories had been revealed to the world. He lived his life in secrecy, valuing his privacy, but now there was not a single wizard alive that did not know of his true motivations. What had possessed that ridiculous boy to _scream_ the truth in a hall filled with people? It seemed that Potter had not changed during that year away. True, it was not fair in the least, but he would not be so childish as to whine about _fairness_ in such a world as they lived. Severus would endure this mortifying turn of events, for he had no other choice but to endure, but he would never forgive that boy – now a man – for revealing secrets that were not his to reveal. Harry held no right to divulge such information. No right.

How sweet it would be to _obliviate_ his mind and eradicate his past from memory . . . he would no longer feel the disgrace of his actions towards Lily, just as he would no longer feel that vulnerable sense of self-consciousness as he knew the world now silently judged him. It was the knowledge that his regrets had shaped his person that stopped him, for without those regrets he would be no different to any Death Eater.

It was an easy decision in retrospect.

Severus took one final look at the glass vial. He lifted it high to turn it in the light, where it was easy to catch sight of the beautiful patterns reflected in the silver liquid, and – as it swirled and danced – he allowed his mouth to pull into a half-smirk. There was a brief sigh of resignation, before he carefully placed the vial into a small leather-bound box upon his desk, and in that box he knew the memories would forever remain. He placed that box within a larger one; it was crammed with various books, potions and tools, which was a depressing thought when he realised how many years worth of teaching could fit into such a small space.

“A lifetime with nothing but memories to show for it,” he muttered.

The sight of his office laid bare instilled a sense of finality upon him. It had taken many years to collect the ingredients, potions and equipment that lined the shelves upon the walls, and now those same shelves had been reduced to nothing but dust and patches of mould. They had kept his office exactly as he left it, so it seemed; Horace never laid claim to it, whilst Minerva kept it as something of a shrine, in case he wished to return to his post. The room was humid and damp, which was something he would not miss in the least.

He would miss other things, however. He would miss the way the Gryffindor students would be so easily intimidated by the esoteric and arcane items, just as he would miss the firewhiskey stashed in his drawer for darker days, and he would miss the lingering scents from uncorked potion bottles. The room would now belong to some other man or woman, who would stamp their identity upon these four walls and erase his mark entirely. It was almost enough to make him reconsider. In a rather odd way he enjoyed shaping young minds, and – in a rather _expected_ way – he had been thrilled at the control his job gave him, able to command and punish at his will. Yes, he would have preferred teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, but simply being a teacher was at times pleasant.  

_‘Professor? Are you there?’_

It was then he heard the knock upon his office door. No, he heard the knock upon _the_ door, for he could no longer claim ownership of the space he forfeited. He glanced to the wooden door and wondered who would be foolish enough to disturb him; it could be no student, for he was no longer a teacher. He was no longer a teacher, a spy . . . no longer a _slave_. A weaker man would have been felled by the sudden freedom, especially after having led such a life of servitude, but he was not a weak man and he would find a way.

“Enter,” he snapped.

The door opened rather slowly, almost as if the intruder were afraid of what reception they would face, and – as the door finally opened – he saw just who it was that decided to disturb him in his final moments: Harry Potter. It should not have surprised him in the slightest, as who else would be so rude as to arrive unwelcome and without invitation? The rules never applied to Harry. He was a man that did what he wanted without regards to anyone else’s feelings, this being one prime example that proved it.

“Ah, Mister Potter,” Severus spat venomously. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Why do you _think_? I mean it’s not as though I expected any thanks or gratitude, because – come on – I think we both know that’s not in your nature, but I did expect _some_ respect considering everything that I did! You couldn’t even tell me to my _face_? This is – _what_ – the second time you’ve done this? You call _me_ a child, but you’re the one that keeps walking away without the maturity to even tell me!”

“In case you haven’t noticed: I owe you _nothing._ I do not think it is the duty of a middle-aged man to inform his ex-student of his every move, thus I gave it no thought to let you know of my life decisions. I apologise to the Chosen One, if this offends you.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave Hogwarts?”

“Did Minerva put you up to this?”

Severus gave the young man as cold a look as he could muster. It was difficult to break a lifetime of habit, even if he thought fondly on some aspects of Harry, but there was such little change over the span of three years . . . it was almost as if Harry had not changed in the least, which – as such – made the anger easily to bring to the forefront. The younger man closed the door softly behind him, before he stood with a familiar rage to his expression.

How old would he be now? Twenty-One? There was a substantial increase of muscle to the younger man since the last time Severus saw him, although his childhood spent in neglect meant that he would forever be slight, and no longer did his clothes hang off him like an old wire-hanger. The one greatest change was his eyes: those eyes once held an inferno of emotions, but now they dwindled to a dying ember, so that indifference and cynicism had replaced the previous optimism. He appeared older than his years, which was enough to make even a man like Severus feel a pang of guilt. No longer did Potter seem sure of himself, but instead he appeared constantly on edge, as if he expected the worst to occur at any moment.

It may have been cruel, but Severus hoped that the change was permanent. The small lines to the corner of those green eyes, as well as the bags from sleepless nights, made him believe that Potter could still grow to be a reasonable adult. He could not help but gaze upon those eyes. They were as beautiful as ever, but with them were memories of the woman he once loved and the boy that he thought he would never see again, and – at that moment – he wished that he had died that night . . . he would never have had to look upon them again.

“Minerva told me you were leaving, yes,” said Harry.

“How strange,” Severus replies. “It seems I am no longer entitled to privacy.”

“No, you’re no longer entitled to _secrecy_. None of us are. I just -! You could have _told_ me that you handed in your notice! You could have _told_ me that you weren’t going back to teaching! I had to hear it from Minerva? You owe me more than that, Severus!”

“ _You_ also owe me some respect! I may no longer be able to deduct house-points, but I was once your teacher and I am still your elder! I gave you no permission to use my first name, nor do I do so now, and nor do I appreciate your constant presence around me. I am not some fragile chick in need of a mother hen, but – even if I _were_ – you would be the last person I would ask for help in protection! I wish to collect my things in peace. Good day to you.”

“Damn it, Severus! You aren’t long recovered! How are you going to get by? I have every right to be worried about you. You nearly _died_! You nearly died because of _me_! You can call me arrogant for making this about me, I don’t care, but I can’t lose you again after all that you’ve done for me! I – I was ungrateful, but now –”

“ _Now_ you care? You could not trust me _before_ seeing my memories?”

“You know that I couldn’t. You know why I couldn’t.”

“Then you know why I never told you.”

Severus lifted the box into his grasp. The edges were rough and hard against his hands, whilst the weight of the contents placed a heavy pressure upon his left arm. It was difficult to endure, for the permanent muscle atrophy and severe scarring left him with a great pain, which was exacerbated by the new weakness upon him, but he bore with it well. The only sign of his suffering was a slight wince to his eyes and a tightening to his hands, whilst Harry glared darkly at him from the closed doorway.

The younger man pressed his lips into a tight line, so much so that they almost appeared white with the pressure, and it was enough to cause Severus to smirk at the sight. He had gotten a reaction from the man. He also noticed a few more subtle changes that previously went unnoticed; he now wore rather fashionable wizarding attire – although not as expensive or chic as what some wizards would wear, notably Mr Malfoy – and his glasses seemed far more flattering than before the war. He stood in a rather inelegant manner, but the way he kept his head raised and his back straight spoke of both power and anger in equal measure. The very fact that a mere child such as Harry Potter could dare to attempt a livid look was _most_ amusing, after all what could a child like him know about true pain or anger?

“How will you get by?” Harry asked.

“I still have my house on Spinner’s End,” answered Severus. “I trust that Minerva disclosed to you my intentions, when she revealed my resignation? I shall work privately from my home in the potions trade. There is a small fortune to be made in custom-made potions.”

“You could teach Defence Against the Dark Arts . . .”

“I could do a lot of things.”

It was cold within the dungeons and Severus was in no mood to talk. The Scottish air in September was forever dismal and dangerous, enough so that at times it felt bitter enough to freeze one where one stood, and in the cold confines of the stony walls it was somehow made all the worse. He hoped to leave in time to avoid the students as they made their way to lunch, as well as to allow the new Potions Master time to settle in whilst the day was still in effect, and – honestly – he regretted not having moved his things during the summer holidays, although the small inconvenience to his successor _did_ amuse him.

“Tell me: why are you here?”

“I told _you_ ,” snapped Harry. “You owe me an explanation. You owe me at least some the opportunity to _explain_ myself and to _apologise_ to you. I visited you _every damned day_ for the last _three years_ , but you can’t even afford me fifteen minutes to talk? What were you going to do, Severus? Just up and leave like you did at the bloody hospital? You have some nerve to call me immature when you just _run_ from me like a – a –!”

“Like a _what_? Say it. I _dare_ you to say it.” Severus paused and then shook his head. “No if anyone is the coward then it is _you_. It seems all that fame and gloryhas gone to straight to your head. Was it not enough to defeat the Dark Lord? Is it not enough to have your face in every paper, your name on everyone’s lips? You are as infuriatingly cocky as your father.”

“Don’t you _dare_ bring my father into this! Not now, not ever.”

“Oh? Did I touch a nerve? You always were rather protective of that arrogant sod. It amuses me that you present yourself as some heroic avenger, when you do nought but worship a heartless bully and a mangy mutt. What will you do if I insult them further? Cry? Shout? _Curse_? Ah, perhaps instead you will invade my private and personal memories in the pensieve in order to gain confirmation of the things that I tell you, my own word being _worthless,_ I’m sure. Well, now you know _everything_ , so what else can I tell you?

“I can only assume that it’s sheer arrogance that brought you here. You must be amused at our reversal of fortune, but I _refuse_ to stand here and let you laugh at my misery! If I left the hospital without telling you, it is because I did not wish for you to see me unable to stand without assistance or slurring my words, because – regardless of what you think of me – I have _some_ dignity worth protecting. I opted to recover at home. It was a wise choice for my convalescence, because I did not have to endure your inevitable _pity_ or your _mockery_. Like your father you assume you can go anywhere, do anything, and it’s always ‘Snivellus’ that becomes the thing that you can point and laugh at. Do you truly have nothing better to do?”

“This isn’t about my father, Severus, and it never was.”

Severus let out a harsh sneer. There were two scars upon his body that were most prominent, both of which ran parallel to one another and ran from just below his chin to his hip-bone, and they currently stung as if dozens of needles pierced his skin. This man knew what pain was, scarred as Severus had become and knowledgeable of the pain that scars sometimes wrought, but he was still young. It felt disrespectful to be spoken to in such a tone, even if he was no longer a professor, and he would not allow such disrespect. 

“I beg to differ,” said Severus. “Unfortunately I have better things to do than debate matters of morality with a B-list celebrity, so please excuse me. I trust that this will be the last of our acquaintanceship? I wish you well, Mr Potter. Farewell.”

It was difficult to walk whilst holding the box. He managed to keep his balance and retain his perfect posture, but his body screamed at him in protest. Severus ignored the pain and marched past Harry, where he opened the door quickly and exited into the dungeon corridors, as he tried to keep what little dignity that was left. The contents of his box rattled as he moved, and as he marched across the stone slabs he caught sight of his robes that billowed about behind him, an effect that still seemed to intimidate the students around him.

The first-years appeared terrified of him, as he swept by them with dark glares in warning, and that was likely due to his absence of three years after the end of the war, which meant that this would be their first – and only – time laying eyes upon his person. It became apparent after some time that Harry had chosen to follow him. The constant stares and wide-eyed looks of the students gave that much away, so that even after all this time the hero-worship of the Chosen One had yet to fade away. It infuriated him to see students stopping dead just to stare at their walking legend, almost as if he owned the damned place.

Severus wondered what such a man could want. He had not lingered in the hospital after regaining consciousness for any longer than it took to sign the discharge forms, but he managed to read the list of those killed in the war . . . those students he had taught, cared for and effectively raised . . . he had grown too depressed to care about much else, let alone the social lives and careers of those that had survived. The first thing that he heard was that Harry Potter had began training as an auror, whilst the last he heard was that this same young man quit his position in the ministry to instead work as a teacher, but Severus sincerely hoped his career change was not based upon any potential proximity to Severus.

It was only when he exited the dungeons – and made his way through the corridors above – that he grew tired of Harry’s tailing of him, and after a few long moments he slowed his pace and allowed his ex-student to fall in line with him. There was a certain strange intimacy in allowing the younger man to walk beside him, enough so that he felt a sense of awkwardness at the change in their relationship. Severus drew in a deep breath and spoke slowly:

“What brings you here? If all you have to say is silence, I implore you to take it elsewhere.”

“I thought you were dead, Severus.”

“Oh? I knew you were inept at creating a simple potion, unable to even tell even wolfsbane from monkshood, but even I would have thought that you could at least believe in what you could clearly see. I may have slept, but I was alive nonetheless.”

“You _know_ full well what I mean, Severus! I never knew where you stood and I never knew what you’d done for me, but then I –! I _saw_ it and I _knew_ what you’d done! I was scared and I was angry and I even hated you for a while . . . I hated you, because you might have died and I might never have had a chance to thank you for all that you’d done, because you were – _are_ – so damned _selfish_ that you don’t ever think anyone else’s feelings matter!”

“I’m so sorry that my life interfered with yours,” snapped Severus. “Next time I work as a triple-agent, whilst trying to ensure the safety of my pupils and colleagues, I’ll be sure to have a heart-to-heart with you about my intentions. I’m sure I’ll have time between developing an anti-venom that can be absorbed through the skin.”

“You’re still doing it! It’s as if you’re _trying_ to make me angry, to push me away!”

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m doing, Mr Potter.”

They wandered outside into the castle grounds. The sun was surprisingly high, considering the extremely cold weather that they faced, and it forced Severus to squint and try to adjust his eyes to the unpleasant beams of light. It seemed too cheerful weather for such an ugly moment, but the air was fresher and far more acceptable than the stale air of the dungeons below, which meant that it would be next to impossible to rid himself of Harry Potter. If there were a torrential downpour typical to Scottish weather, he doubted that the young man would remain by his side. He would have to be stubborn indeed, if he did.

“It’s a long walk to Hogsmeade,” muttered Harry.

“You intend to follow me that far? You can see that I am alive and well. The potion that I carried that day was experimental, I shall admit, and had it not worked I most certainly would have been dead. The recovery was made difficult by the severe blood loss, as well as that the potion and the venom itself wrought havoc with my body, but I suppose it is better to recover in a coma than to be conscious for such pain. I – alas – shall never be the same again.”

“Yeah, they said. The healers warned me that they’d be heavy scarring, as well as that you might even be paralysed in your arm, but I guess we got lucky, huh? They told me – when you left – you were surprisingly well all things considered.”

“Yes, but I would have been better if you had _reacted_ better. If you had just thought to take a pulse to check for life, then to administer basic spells to staunch the bleeding and to call for help, then perhaps I would have healed faster than I did and to a better quality. I noted how quick you were to take my precious memories. You took what you found interesting, but never mind that my life was hanging in the balance.”

“That isn’t fair!”

“ _Life_ isn’t fair, but in my observations I believe that I have _been_ fair.”

Severus began a slow walk towards the gates, whilst he focussed on maintaining perfect stability, as already he could feel the ice forming underfoot and the uneven form of the gravel and dirt along the path. He hoped to reach Hogsmeade as quickly as possible. It was difficult to be forced to consider what his life would now become, just as the reminder of how close he had been to death was something of a sobering thought, and – although he would never admit it to the healers – a part of him _hated_ that he survived through the bite.

It would not be long before he could let the box down. The downside was simply that the relief from free his weak arm of the pressure would hurt, so that the muscle would ache for some hours after, and it was possible that he would loss some mobility in his fingers for the days that followed. He tried to constantly flex his left hand around the box as he moved, as well to hold it close to his chest with the weight predominately on his right arm, but he still needed to use the left and the left would suffer accordingly. This would affect his ability to make potions in large amounts . . . he would need many breaks, as well as to take longer during the process of each potion . . . he would never be the same again.

“You can’t run away from me forever,” Harry snapped.

Harry reached out to grab a hold of Severus’ sleeve. The older man still retained his fast reflexes and astute powers of observation, and so he snatched his arm out of the way before any contact could be made. It threw him off balance slightly, so that he stumbled and was forced to put the weight of his body upon his left leg to prevent from falling, but that sudden pressure sent a sharp wave of agony through his body and nearly felled him. The pain must have been clear upon his expression, as at once Harry moved as if to take a hold of him, but – thankfully – the younger man had learned enough not to take such liberties.

“You make it seem as if I don’t care,” Harry snapped.

“Do you _truly_ mean to say that you care about me? I bullied you during your time here, not to mention that you hated me regardless, because I was nothing more to you than some Death Eater and a rival of your godfather. I do not imply you don’t care, I state it.”

“You – you can be so infuriating! You blame _me_ of being stuck in the past, but _you’re_ the one that can’t look beyond that and see things for what they are _now_!” Harry quickened his pace to keep up with Severus. “Do you know that I dropped _everything_ when I heard you were alive? You must have been told. I went straight to St. Mungo’s and ran straight to your side. I owed my life to you . . . you _saved_ me . . . I couldn’t just turn my back on you.”

“So you came to pay off a debt? How altruistic.”

“I came because I care! Okay, so maybe I was wrong for judging you, but it’s not as though you never judged me in turn, is it? You thought I was my father. I thought you were the enemy. We were both so – so _stupid_! I guess that may be why we argued so much, huh? We were far more similar than we’d like to admit. We’re both stubborn and a little self-involved and we both take things for granted, but haven’t we grown too? I know I have. The war changed me. It changed all of us. I can’t go back to who I was, not now . . .

“You watched out for me all that time,” said Harry. “I never knew, but you did. That was your Patronus . . . that was you that kept a rein on the Carrows . . . that was you that stopped Draco from doing something unforgivable. I can’t deny that your personality can be really grating at times, but I don’t know . . . I sometimes think you act that way on purpose, like you’re trying to hurt people so they won’t hurt you. I cleared your name, you know? I made them install your portrait in the headmaster’s office, too. I’m not going to keep a grudge when you sacrificed _everything_ to help _all of us_. You’re the bravest man I’ve met.”

Severus was unsure how to respond to such honesty. He felt partially honoured to be thought of as anything other than the ‘greasy, old, dungeon bat’, but there was a part of him that distrusted such words, especially when they came from the mouth of a man that once proclaimed to loathe him. It was an alien feeling for someone to deem him of worth; he had been too much of a ‘Death Eater’ to the Order, too much of the ‘Order’ to the Death Eaters. It seemed that Harry judged him solely by his actions and merit, not by what he could _do_.

The truth was that he never before considered his ‘worth’, for his worth was intrinsically tied to the services that he could provide for the Dark Lord and for Dumbledore, but now he was faced with a man that seemed to think him . . . _good_. Severus had never been handsome or beautiful; his hair would be forever greasy from potion fumes, whilst his skin was sallow and scarred, and he would always look gangly and somewhat shabby in comparison to his colleagues and closest friends. He knew, too, that he held far less wealth and status in terms of any other wizard alive, and that his miserable house stood in a less affluent area was testament to that fact. In all, he had neither money nor looks, and so he had nothing to give.

He knew that his personality was the greatest offence of all. There could be no greater judge of his moral fibre than himself, for he knew himself better than any other, and in those past forty-or-so years he had committed many unforgivable acts, beyond contrition or penance. It was Severus who had told the Dark Lord the prophecy, Severus who had cursed one of the Weasley twins into permanent disfigurement, and Severus who had killed Albus . . . no one could care for a man like that. No one could call a murderer brave.

“You look lost in thought,” said Harry softly.

“Indeed,” replied Severus. “If you have come to offer forgiveness, I cannot accept it. I can – however – express gratitude for your kind sentiments, which is more than a man like myself deserves. Now, you should return home to your fiancé. Leave me be.”

“Ginny left me.”

They reached the gates of the school. It would be easy to step through them and begin the walk into Hogsmeade, but there was something oddly pathetic and broken about Harry’s words that forced Severus to pause. _The Prophet_ had reported on the break-up of the century, with Minerva and Lucius seemingly fascinated by this new development, and yet Severus heard this from Harry’s mouth for the first time. It was only because he knew what Harry said to be true that he attempted a perfunctory sympathetic remark, one that he hoped would not sound too out of character for a man of his stature and reputation.

“I am sorry to hear that, Potter.”

“I think it was because I was visiting you so much.” Harry jumped as the gates closed abruptly behind them. “Well, she never _said_ that, but I knew that’s what it was. I think it was the straw that broke the camel’s back; really, I mean . . . we were just so _different_. I think we clung to each other during the war out of fear; we didn’t think what we would be like in the long-term, because we didn’t think there would _be_ a long-term. I was angry at first, because I did love her, I honestly did, but . . . we’re still good friends, anyway.

“It was about a year after the war that she left. I was just putting my life on hold; Hermione, Ginny and Draco had started back at school to finish their exams, whilst Ron went on to train as an auror with me, but I never really felt a passion for it. I quit before training finished. I was just . . . floating. I lost kind of the ability to feel passionate about anything, so my motivation went with it, but you were there . . . the one stable and constant thing in my life . . . and I was in this – this limbo! I couldn’t apologise to you or start afresh with you in a coma, but I couldn’t say goodbye to you when you hadn’t gone. I spent every day by your side.

“Ginny kept talking about joining a Quidditch team, as well as what we’d name our kids, and how it was a shame that Percy couldn’t have made up with their brother before his deathbed, how it’d be great to see him at Christmas . . . she blamed you a little, I think. She said that as long as you lived that I couldn’t. She was right: I can’t let go. If you had died along with everyone else then maybe things would have been different, but something would have always been missing. She knew that, and I think you know that, too.”

“We seem to have reached Hogsmeade, Potter.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess we have.”

The village was cast in a thick layer of snow. It was untouched in places, but along the paths and roads the snow had been trodden into nothing more than tainted mush. There was a large amount of hustle-and-bustle from the local residents, as well as noise cast by the older students that foolishly left their heated dormitories to instead brave the cold weather, and – no matter where he looked – he saw nothing but people. He staved off a feeling of self-consciousness and reminded himself that it was only a short floo-ride home.

Severus stood still and clung to the box like a lifeline, where he felt a short spark of relief that he had not shrunk his belongings as he previously intended, for the ability to hold onto something gave him a chance to ground himself. If it were not for the box, he may have been forced to hold something else . . . such as his wand. This was hardly an appropriate time for them to be having such a discussion, but it had become obvious – from this and from the many owls sent to him – that Harry craved something akin to a friendship. He was suspicious of Harry’s seeming kindness, as he knew well that no one would seek a friendship with a man such as himself, but they were in public and – as such – it forced them to be civil. 

“I really must leave, Potter,” said Severus.

“Wait – I – I need to talk to you. I know you have feelings for me.”

Severus turned forcefully to face the younger man. Harry blanched a little and wrapped his arms around his body, almost as if to keep warm from the cold wind that struck. The wind whipped at his cheeks until they reddened like a child’s, whilst his lips became so dry that he was forced to lick at them, and he seemed to withdraw into himself. Harry seemed truly taken aback by Severus’ hard stare, as if he expected some profound or lengthy discussion, but there was nothing to be said and Severus would not break the silence so readily.

“You – you can say something now, Severus.”

There was nothing to be said. It felt as if his every nerve were on fire, whilst he felt a great sense of conflict as he gazed into those green eyes. He wanted nothing more than to curse Potter, but his body had grown weak with the day’s physical exertion. It infuriated him that this fool could state such things as fact, things that he did not understand, especially when he spent so many years despising Severus with every fibre of his being. The truth was that his feelings for Harry were strictly platonic, although that inane Dumbledore would often argue ‘paternal’ and the Dark Lord ‘romantic’, but he had never the opportunity to examine them further and – until late – Harry had been a mere boy. Did it matter how he felt? There would be no happy ending . . . as if they may all live happily ever after, like some twaddle written by Beadle the Bard or the Brothers Grimm . . . because there _were_ no happy endings in life.

There was no way that idiot man could ever understand the complexity behind how Severus felt, especially not now when – despite his new maturity – he could only understand the concept of ‘love’ in black-and-white terms. No doubt, Potter could comprehend crushes and sexual desire, but _love_ -? That was beyond him. Love was a killing curse. It was something people wanted, but that they could never truly obtain . . . an ideal in a world of imperfection. The truth was that when it came to love – when it came to whispering that one incantation of three simple words – people fell short, because one partner always loved more than the other, and the partner that loved less would be doomed to heartache. He experienced _that_ with Lily.

No one ever _meant_ to harm the person they loved, but they always did. Love was like the waters of a river; it was fast and powerful in its passion, but it would forever erode and wear down those that crossed its path, and soon the object of the love would be broken and misshapen beyond all recognition, like a rock in the waves. He had loved Lily, but that love had brought nothing but death and despair upon her, whilst the waters of his heart became polluted until he was as dark as any other Death Eater. He damned them both.

“Do not speak of what you know _nothing_ about.”

“Look, I’m not offended,” said Harry. “I know some muggles have prejudices against bisexuality and homosexuality, but I’ve never really been like other muggles. I also _really_ need to talk to you about it; you’ll understand what I’m going through, and whom else can I talk to about it? I don’t care if you make fun of me or belittle me, but we’ve both been through so much and have changed so much and I just need to –”

“How dare you? _How dare you!_ I have never known you to be _this_ presumptuous. Why . . . the Boy-Who-Lived has not enough admirers that he must _invent_ one in the form of a man that he so despises? I cannot tell if you are insanely foolish or irreversibly arrogant.”

“Damn it! You can pretend it’s not true, Severus, but –”

“I do not believe I gave you permission to address me by my forename, _Potter_ ,” snapped Severus. “Tell me, even if I felt such affections for you, what would that ultimately mean? I do not think that a young heterosexual can respond to the lust of a middle-aged bisexual, but I do think the knowledge of such a lust would be detrimental to any platonic relationship that they sought to create. It would be awkward to say the least. Honestly, when have I ever given you reason to believe such a _hideous_ untruth?”

“If you’d just _listen_ to what I’m saying -! I think I’m –”

“You are lucky I am in a well-humoured mood, else I may be inclined to curse you.”

Harry conducted himself with great self-restraint, even if the students all about kept a large distance from them, as if they sensed his anger and offence. It forced Severus to turn his head slightly to look away from the younger man, as he felt an element of amusement that he could garner such frustration from Harry. Severus shook his head and made to move away, but Harry moved quickly in front of him and blocked the way. This began to grow tiresome.

“Listen, Severus,” said Harry. “I know this is complicated. I’m not saying that you’re madly in love with me, because I think we both know that would be a load of bollocks, but I think you feel _something_. It’s just – it’s just all confused with the fact that you were asleep for so long, but if you would just _talk_ to me then you’d _know_ I’m no longer some kid. I’d get if you’d never be able to see me as anything else, because you _did_ teach me for all those years, but if you’d just give me a chance to prove to you I’m an _adult_ now -!

“Let me guess, if you call me ‘Potter’ then you can pretend I’m my dad and not me? You’re trying to distance yourself from the truth, because you just plain don’t want to see me as ‘Harry’, because you’re afraid – yes, _afraid,_ Severus – that you might actually like me as a person and that I might be more than what you think I am. It might have been fine before the war, because we fought on different sides and had different agendas, and if anyone knew that you and I were fighting for the same cause . . . you’d have been killed. I was underage anyway, so I don’t think for a minute you felt anything deeper than obligation, but –

“You watched me become a man,” muttered Harry. “You watched me even as an adult, then when you woke up you must have seen me in the papers and followed my life, and – well – I think you know I’ve grown. Your Patronus didn’t change because of my mother; it changed to complement _mine_! The doe to my stag, that’s it, isn’t it? Call me arrogant, but we both know that it was _my_ eyes you wanted to see when you were dying. You’ve been avoiding me since you woke up and I’ve had enough, Severus! We need to talk. _Properly_!”

“You vain, conceited, arrogant -! I _loved_ Lily, even if you think that –”

“It’s possible to love more than one person.”

Ah, there was James’ arrogance! It just wouldn’t be a conversation with Harry without the younger man’s idle threats, rude commands, and egocentric attitude. Did it matter to him that Severus wanted nothing but silence? The only thing that mattered to Potter _was_ Potter. No doubt he would make Severus’ life a living hell until he gave in to his ridiculous demands for a ‘talk’. He could not risk being the butt of some joke, which was likely all this was to the younger man, and yet this felt like something deeper and something sincere.

Surely there was some spell or charm or hidden bug eavesdropping upon their little talk? Didn’t rumour have it that one of the reporters for the _Daily Prophet_ was some sort of animagus? It was some sort of insect if he remembered right, bringing a whole new meaning to the muggle phrase of ‘being bugged’. He wouldn’t put it past Potter to have some sort of device in place to record his reactions, to later make his old professor’s comments public and humiliate him nationwide . . . _worldwide_. That was the only way to explain it. Harry seemed sincere, and – in fact – he did not even try to prevent Severus from delving into his mind, although due to his ineptitude in occlumency that proved little.

“I am obliged to attend a party at Malfoy Manor tonight,” spat Severus.

“I don’t understand the relevance, Severus.”

“Oh? You always were the slowest student in class. I am told that the party being held is in the spirit of a . . . _truce_. Trust my friend to turn an attempt to get back into polite society into a political statement for the ‘greater good’, but – nonetheless – I shall enjoy the chance to meet with former colleagues, students and companions. God forbid that you should comprehend a simple implication! Do you follow me, Potter?”

“Let me guess; you’re inviting me to tag along? I’m not on the guest-list, Severus. I’m on much better terms with Malfoy, but he would rather die than see me at his party! I can’t just turn up on his doorstep and expect to be let in!”

“It is a well-established fact that at these infernal affairs one always invites the spouse or partner of any given invitee, when there is not a spouse or partner then that invitee may instead bring a guest. I am allowed to bring a guest. I have never before brought one, as I have never before attended unless coerced, but – thanks to _you_ – I have much to learn from my years spent sleeping in some dingy ward of a hospital. I will not give you the honour of private correspondence or private conference, but a dinner party inevitably leads to tedious talks in the drawing room afterwards. I would not object to your company should you wish to explain your feelings in depth, and the reasons to which that I should care.”

“This is your compromise? You’re too much of a coward to talk to me in private.”

“I shall give you _one_ warning: call me a ‘coward’ again and next time you may find your wand so far magically inserted into your rectum that you’ll be coughing wood for weeks. I couldn’t threaten you in such a manner before, but I can do so now. I am not – nor have I ever been – a coward. If you’re seeking to win me over, you’re doing a horrific job.”

Severus turned quickly away and made towards the less reputable pub. He knew that there he would be able to use the floo to return himself home, although he could not help other than to note the forlorn and resigned expression that Harry wore, as if the protest of becoming centre of attention at a pure-blood’s party wasn’t a dream come true. It seemed that the boy knew how such a party could help raise his profile and make excellent connections, and so he followed Severus at once, struggling to keep up. Perhaps that was his intent all along.

“It’s at eight o’clock. Meet me outside Malfoy Manor.”

“I will. And you promise we’ll talk?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll make some small talk at some point in the evening . . .”

In truth, he was curious as to whether the younger man would attend. He viewed it as a form of test, for his treatment of Severus at the party would determine whether he was worthy enough of a private audience with the older man. If he were lucky, Harry would get distracted by the glamour of the rich and famous around him, which would perhaps allow Severus to wallow in the isolation he so craved. They were simply too different to even spend a moment together without violence occurring, it would be best in the long run for Harry to realise that.

“Well,” Severus said, “I shall expect to see you later, _Potter_.”

And, with that, he left before the boy could stop him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

# Chapter Two

Severus watched Harry from afar.

The party was tiresome, indeed, although it provided an excellent opportunity to learn about recent events and recover old acquaintanceships. It was rather warm within the large room, with so many bodies bustling to and fro in a great hustle of excitement, and the volume of such inane natter began to grow intolerable. The wine in his hand provided an excellent distraction; the aroma was rich and distinct, whilst the taste unlike any such drink he could afford for himself, and every time Harry looked to him it gave him something to look upon.

No, he would not allow Harry to think for a moment that he held Severus’ attention, especially when he was so eager to avoid it. The younger man was clearly furious with Severus, at least judging by the disapproving glances sent in his direction, but – the more he narrowed his eyes – the harder it became not to smirk at his frustration. He clearly had yet to give up in his attempts to speak with Severus, at least judging by his many attempts to awkwardly cross the room. The idea of trying to mend bridges between the reformed Death Eaters and the Order was a noble one, but there were so many bad memories were associated with the Manor, and Harry clearly felt uncomfortable in its surroundings.

He would constantly try to move, only to be stopped by a passing stranger and engaged in mindless small talk, which appeared to only add to his discomfort. It was almost endearing how he would fidget from foot to foot, whilst casting eyes across to Severus as if for help, and yet he was clearly no longer a boy, but a man. There was something both simultaneously sweet and sickening about a grown adult acting so insecure, but neither feeling was strong enough to compel Severus to intervene. The younger man was clearly determined indeed, but why he hadn’t left – clearly unwanted in the home of Lucius – was anyone’s guess.

It was somewhat lucky that Lucius was able to pass Harry’s presence off as a ‘guest of honour’, as otherwise Severus would have suffered a terrible lecture at the hands of his friend, but that only forced the attention of the room upon the younger man. He eventually managed to break free of the room’s occupants, before he managed to begin a slow and steady walk across to Severus’ side. Harry clenched his hands into tight fists by his sides, whilst his cheeks became rosy with indignation. He was incensed.

“That was a dirty trick, Severus,” snapped Harry.

He stopped a mere few inches from Severus. It appeared that he made some effort for this little part of Lucius’; he wore formal dress-robes that were indicative of his wealth, quite form-fitting and somewhat flattering, and yet his messy hair was not styled in the least. It was much like watching a kitten bear its claws. Severus could not see the wand of the other man, but he knew that in a duel Harry would not stand a chance in the least.

“Did I not tell you how I wished not to talk?”

“Don’t -! If I get angry, I’ll start to shout,” snapped Harry. “I really don’t need that kind of attention right now. I just -! _Damn it, Severus_! You could have just _told_ me to piss off! Did you get some sort of sick pleasure from seeing me suffer like this?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“Like hell you don’t.”

Severus took a sip of his wine. It enabled him to hide the slight smile he wore, as well as to taste the fine liquid and distract himself momentarily. The house-elves located around the room topped up the glasses of the guests, which made him glad the insufferable Granger girl was absent, as he – along with many other teachers – had not forgotten her inane attempts at ‘freeing’ the creatures for an entire year. He breathed in deeply to inhale the aroma of the glass and then looked to Harry with mild amusement.

There were a few social butterflies flitting about the room, whilst a handful of social-climbers instead sort to gravitate as close to Harry as possible, although – seeing the aura of anger he held – they were intelligent enough to keep some distance. It had been fun to people-watch. There were those that would have cursed each other during the war, but now broke bread as if the war had never happened, all for the sake of ‘propriety’. The Death Eaters made reparation with forced fees and voluntary donations, whilst the Order basked in the inevitable glory, but here – under this roof – was the charade of ‘equality’. The former appeared to fear a surprise arrest, with the latter a surprise arrest; this ‘civility’ was a sham.

“I must say I am surprised to see you,” said Severus.

“Then _why_ invite me? _Why_?”

“Perhaps I was merely curious as to what would happen.” Severus took another sip. “You received no invitation to this event, of that much I can be sure, and yet you somehow have managed to _worm_ your way into here like you almost _belong_ here. I should have expected as much; a man like you is _renowned_ for gatecrashing where he is not wanted. It must be wonderful to walk into any party and have the self-confidence to feel as if you belong.”

“This isn’t about me! I know that I’m hardly your favourite person, but I thought you’d _at least_ respect me enough not to play such a childish prank! You _ditched_ me! You never intended to meet me at all, did you? It’s cruel. You’re just a bully and nothing more.”

“A bully, am I? I suppose I learned _something_ from your godfather.”

“You’re a bastard, Severus,” snapped Harry.

Severus arched an eyebrow at the remark. He could see how angry Harry had become, but so too could those around them. It was not expected that he should make it this far, let alone find an opportunity to confront Severus, and many people were quite aware that Harry had not been invited in the least (even if many others were not). He could feel the eyes of the room upon them, even as they sought to look inconspicuous, and he felt somewhat uncomfortable.

“Enlighten me, Potter,” he said.

“You were the one to invite me,” snapped Harry. “I know you don’t believe me when I tell you that I really do like you; it’s not as though you were around for all the changes in my life, I mean . . . it’s like it’s all happened overnight for you, isn’t it? You were asleep, whilst I spent _years_ trying to come to terms with my sexuality and my feelings. I can get why you’d be sceptical, which is why I wanted to _talk_ to you and get to _know_ you properly. All you had to do was simple: accept my offer or reject my offer.

“ _You_ invited me. _You_ were the one to get my hopes up. _You!_ I’m not some child that can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, at least not any more . . . you should have just _told_ me that you never wanted to see me, but you didn’t! Instead you leave me outside, like some stood-up date! I had to _beg_ Blaise Zambini to let me in as his guest, but he’s making me turn up to some _stupid_ party in return. I _hate_ playing the role of entertainment at these things. I would rather be back in the cupboard under the stairs than playing pet guest to a bunch of toffs, but you don’t care, do you? All this – _all of it_ – just so you can get your jollies off on my suffering!”

“Do not attempt to make me seem the villain in all of this, Potter.” Severus glared darkly at the younger man. “I think my actions to date have made it clear that I wish to be left alone, but you still seek to gain audience with me, as if I know not my very mind. I was forced to act in a manner in which would _finally_ make clear just how much I wish to be left alone.”

“So this – _this_ – is what this is all about? You’d rather live in isolation than _talk_.”

“I think my message is clear. Do I truly need to elaborate?”

“No, I guess you don’t.”

The look on Harry’s face was almost disheartening. It was quite clear that he was angry, which was something that Severus would once have dismissed as being part of Harry’s arrogance, but this was more than an anger at being dismissed. He looked _rejected_. There was a pain reflected in those green eyes that went beyond a mere vanity, but instead spoke of betrayal. It was a pain that Severus once saw Lily wear, as well as one he swore that he would never inflict again, but there it was clear as day.

It was strange to Severus; he had intentionally set out to hurt Harry, but the feeling at seeing him so despondent was not what he envisioned. He spoke with a voice that trembled slightly with emotion, loud enough to attract attention and yet quiet enough that no one else could make out the contents of their conversation, and it was clear to many that they were in the midst of a heated discussion. This would turn into an argument were they not careful. The longer the stares of the crowd continued, the more nervous Harry became and the more he appeared to withdraw into some place within himself. He stared at the floor with cheeks puffed out in a pout and a red tinge upon his otherwise pale skin.

The embarrassment was clear upon his face, which forced Severus to rethink his opinion on the younger man’s shameless attention seeking. It was three years since the war, whilst even during the war his opinion of what was once a boy had been biased, and now he could see something within Harry that spoke of something deeper. It was as he thought to himself that Harry appeared to see something within Severus in turn, something he wished to stay hidden.

“You don’t trust me,” said Harry.

“I am impressed you have made that observation,” replied Severus. “I will say that I am beginning to see you for your own person, but it will take time for me to see you as a man distinct from your godfather and father. Sadly, I lack for patience since the war’s end.”

“Do you push me away so that you won’t get hurt?”

“Do you cling to me out of a _need_ to be hurt?”

Severus saw something in Harry. There was slight recoil, as well as an unclenching of his hands, but then he regained his composure and stood straight. It was then that he turned his face into a sad smile; he clearly felt proud that he could get so close to Severus, enough to cause him to become defensive, but was offended by the insinuation that he may have grown too close in turn. Did he simply seek power over Severus, as the ultimate conquest? The younger man drew in a deep breath and shook his head.

“I’ve seen people _die_ over old grudges,” snapped Harry.

“This is not a grudge. It is merely . . . a defensive manoeuvre. I simply cannot understand your fascination with me; it may be a way to dominate someone with great strength, as a form of ultimate control and power, or perhaps it may be a misguided crush based on years spent romanticising my actions and my motivations. Regardless, I worry about your feelings.”

“You – you just don’t _get_ it! I haven’t romanticised anything; trust me, if anyone knows how much of an asshole you can be, it’s me. It’s just that these past few years – helped by the fact you couldn’t _answer back_ like a dick – I got to learn about a whole other side to you, which kind of _balanced_ the bad I knew. I realised you were complex and that you had reasons to do what you did, so I just want to start afresh and get to know you as a person, because I _like_ you, Severus. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. It’s as simple as that.

“I saw people die unable to ask for forgiveness, just as I saw people die wishing they could spend one more minute with the person they loved, but – ultimately – their bodies lined the Great Hall as if they never meant anything to begin. I know how previous life can be. I don’t want to grow old and regret never having told you that I forgive you, just as I don’t want to grow old and realise that I never asked for forgiveness in return, and I just want to give my feelings a chance . . . see whether we can be something more or whether I really I _have_ just concocted a fantasy. I don’t know . . . if you died, it may have been totally different, but –

“If you want to trivialise everything I’ve been through, go ahead.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I saw person after person after person die, but when I thought you were gone it cut me deeper than most. I never had a chance to make amends . . . now I _do_. Well, I guess I’ve said my piece and I have my answer . . . there’s no reason to stay here any longer . . . I’m going to leave whilst I have _some_ dignity left. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Harry turned around and drew in a deep breath. The crowds appeared to have found new things to capture their interest, so they had lost the attentions of the masses, and yet Severus felt judged beyond anything he felt all evening. He saw the tensions to the younger man’s shoulders, just as well as he could see the way that he lowered his head and tried to hide his disappointment at the way the evening ended. Severus looked to his wine. It suddenly looked less than appetising and smelled somewhat stale to his saddened self.

“Forget it,” muttered Harry. “Owl me when you’re ready to talk.”

Severus watched as Harry turned quickly away, but there was an expression upon his face that made the older man wonder whether the younger was on the verge of tears. No, he could not imagine Harry crying under any circumstances. The truth was that he likely offended Harry, who now strove to leave before making a scene, and yet he was clearly hurt and clearly infuriated with the outcome of their discussion. Severus let out a sigh and placed his empty glass on a passing tray with a firm gesture. _This was ridiculous._

It was good that he decided to leave. He would have only have embarrassed them both otherwise, as this was a party that contained acquaintances of both men, and yet Severus felt a spark of anger nonetheless. Severus caught himself curling his lip and narrowing his eyes dangerously, before he realised that such gestures – contemptuous and furious – were the very same ones that alienated Harry and caused him to feel disliked. He sighed once more and made a decision to follow the younger man, if only to set the record straight and allow him the chance to speak his mind freely, although he struggled to maintain his composure as he spoke out. It was difficult to remain calm.

“Potter, wait!”

Severus followed him through the crowds. He could see Harry moving through the sea of people, but with each step the younger man continued to disappear just out of sight, only to reappear some distance elsewhere. The people kept crowding around them, which caused Severus to stop and start, and he suddenly loathed those people that continued to push up against him and jostle him as he moved. He felt his robes billow about him, whilst he muttered curses to himself and glared at the man ahead.

“Potter! _Harry_ –”

“No!”

Harry spun around to face Severus. They were now in Lucius’ entrance hall, which lay just on the other side to the doors of the party, although such doors remained open and allowed both men to remain on view to the occupants within. There were a handful of people that tried to inconspicuously watch, but most were too preoccupied to pay them any mind. Severus noticed perhaps three couples at most in the entrance hall, all seeking to have private discussions, and – as such – they paid the two men no mind. Harry took a step backwards to hide behind a wall, likely so that those still in the party would not see him.

There was a momentary feeling of panic within Severus, but he ignored such feelings in order to focus upon the matter at hand. The greatest concern would be that Harry would cause such a scene that he would be humiliated by association, although he doubted such a feat due to the younger man’s aversion to being a spectacle at such events, and yet – in the cold and draughty hall – he couldn’t help but wonder just what the inevitable conversation between them would entail. This man before him had destroyed the Dark Lord and saved their world, and yet he appeared so unsure around Severus and so unsure of himself, and it was suspicious to say the least. Severus kept his head high and observed with disinterest.

It took a moment to compose himself, but Severus managed to step forward and closer to Harry, whilst still being just within the doorway and visible to the guests within the main room, and yet the distance between them felt greater than ever. The younger man looked visibly shaken, enough so that he appeared caught between a cry and a curse, and yet he locked eyes with Severus with great determination and confidence. He was shocked to see Harry upset, but more so that the public attention seemed abhorrent to him and– in those few seconds – he re-evaluated everything that he thought he once knew about Harry.

“If I have said anything to offend you, Harry –”

“Oh, you have _got_ to be joking! ‘If’? _‘If’_ you have said anything offensive?”

“I do believe that is what I said, yes.”

Harry pushed Severus with great force. It was unexpected, despite the other man’s known volatile temper, and – with the weakness in Severus’ left side – he stumbled backwards a few steps in order to retain his balance. Severus felt a mixture of shame and fury; the sheer impudence of such an act made him wish to hex the man, but he also felt highly ashamed of how prominent his ribs must have felt under Harry’s touch. The wine had been perhaps an unwise choice on an empty stomach on such pain-relieving potions, but he knew that his slow reflexes and weakened body went beyond that . . . he would never be the same again.

“Severus,” said Harry, as he breathed heavily through his anger. “I can understand that you wouldn’t trust me, just as I can get you’re scared of being hurt, and I won’t lie . . . I feel that way, too. I trust you on some level, but I can’t trust you fully . . . not yet . . . just as I don’t want to be hurt, either. I just -! Damn it! You can’t – you can’t _treat_ me this way! You have no right! You treat me worse than a criminal! You refuse to accept that _I_ have feelings, too!

“Why are you doing this? Are you so desperate to be alone that you’ll really push away the _only_ person willing to look beyond the façade, the one person that’s trying to see you for _you_? I know what it’s like, you know. I know what it’s like when people just see you as a role to play or for what you do for them, because I’ve had every nickname in the world, but how many people have ever seen me for just _who_ I am? I was lucky to have great friends, but even then I sometimes think they only saw what they wanted to see . . . you wouldn’t believe how often Ron and I fought . . . well, maybe you would.”

“I trust there is a point to this story?”

“See, even now you push and push! Look, I’m not going to moan about my life, because – well – I _know_ I’ve had it better than most, but it’s just . . . sometimes I wish I was less alone. I have so few people that love me for me; it’s like no matter how much I loved Sirius, he only ever saw me as a substitute for my father. I know Remus fought with him a few times over it, although I heard some of the Order joke about lovers’ tiffs . . . were they -? _You know._ I guess it doesn’t matter. Remus lost someone he cared about regardless, then was forced to lose Tonks, too. We were guilty of judging each other, too. I saw the bad in you, but you only ever saw the bad in me in turn . . . we’re so much more than what we thought.

“I guess – I guess what I’m trying to say is that I care about you for seeing a part of me that no one else does, because – even when we hated each other – you saw the flaws when everyone else only wanted to see the good. I just hoped we could start to see the good, too, so that we could see each other completely. You keep pushing me away. If your intent was to hurt me, fine, you did just that. Congratulations, Severus, you have me on the verge of breaking! Just – just stop hurting yourself by hurting me!”

Severus found himself left somewhat speechless.

He found himself caught between remorse and fury; the fury stemmed from the fact that his ex-student could dare to address him in such a manner, but the remorse stemmed from the fact that he would – begrudgingly – admit to some admiration for the younger man. He disliked the idea intensely that he could have hurt the very person that he swore to protect, but Harry was right: he believed it too dangerous to allow themselves to get closer. He felt conflicted. A part of him wished to eradicate the memories from his mind and start afresh.

The truth was that he did not wish to examine his feelings in further detail, because he did not wish to know whether he could feel something deeper or more meaningful. He hurt and killed so many people – Lily included – and he knew that he deserved to suffer, more than Harry could ever know, and he was in no mood to dissect his sexuality and to break societal norms by viewing an ex-student as something more. Severus chose his role as spy to pay penance for his past misdeeds, because he wished to _suffer_ for his grievous errors, and now he sought his self-imposed isolation for similar reasons. He should not have felt guilty for acting as was natural, but something within him felt that guilt nonetheless.

He hurt Harry too many times during their time during Harry’s school years, but now Harry was a man and their relationship should surely begin afresh on equal footing. It was simply difficult to see the boy now as a man, having watched him grow and flourish for so many years, and yet he could not deny the inevitable truth or the change in their fortunes. He owed it to Harry to at least allow him a chance to talk with him, perhaps to even allow their tentative friendship to grow. If this were a mere joke to Harry, however . . .

“You’ve seen my memories,” said Harry. “You know me. Tell me if I’m lying.”

“You act as if you have something to prove.”

Severus looked him in the eyes. It was a temptation to invade the other man’s memory, especially as he had been given permission, but the truth was clear upon Harry’s face and no such unspoken spell was needed. He could see the raw emotion cast upon his face; Harry was thrown into shadow, blocked by the door and wall, so the darkness created an eerie aura about his face, but this only added to the serious and determined expression that he wore. It was almost impossible to look away, for he never before witnesses such depths from Harry.

The look in Harry’s eyes – along with the vague succession of emotions that Severus sensed on his vague foray into his mind – proved that he told the truth; at the very least he _believed_ in everything that he so claimed. Those green eyes seemed alive behind his glasses, with the focus in them so intense that he appeared to try to bore holes into Severus’ soul, and – as time passed – Severus saw how steady and rhythmic the younger man’s breathing had become. It was clear that Harry waited for an answer. It was clear that he was angry with Severus, but there was something almost dangerous and alluring about seeing him caught between light and darkness, both literally and figuratively.

“I would not be averse to a friendship,” muttered Severus.

“That’s fine,” snapped Harry. “I wasn’t asking for your hand in marriage; I only wanted the chance to sit with you as an equal and get to know you as an individual, because I really do care for you. I don’t know . . . if in time there comes something –”

“No. I know that your feelings for me are borderline romantic, but I shall tell you now that we shall never be a couple.” Severus took a step back to distance himself. “It is a sacrifice enough to befriend you, especially when I have been forced into such a friendship, but a romantic relationship is – and always will be – strictly out of the question. If you cannot accept this, we cannot begin even so much as a platonic companionship.”

“Damn it! I’m not saying _now_ , but just -! Why not?”

“You know why not, you insolent brat!

“Remind me, then!”

They had attracted attention again. A few people near towards the doors heard the raised voices, which caused them to turn and stare, perhaps out of morbid curiosity as to with their old professor chose to converse. Those within the entrance hall gave them privacy, as they in turn sought for privacy in turn, but those from within the party . . . human nature could not be avoided and they watched with interest. He could see a handful walking close to the door with flimsy excuses, hoping to catch whispers of gossip.

“You are confused,” said Severus. “I have never known you to have any interest in men, aside from snippets of your memory that were as boring as they were trivial, but a kiss that you did not enjoy -? A relationship that you ended before it began -? These are teenage dramas and not lasting indications of any sexuality. In time, perhaps with experimentation, you will know for certain, but I will not lead you on this romanticised fantasy of yours.”

“Look, for you it’s been a few months, but for me it’s been _years_! I know my mind.”        

“Oh, you know your mind, do you?” Severus let out a hiss of breath. “I was your _teacher_! Do you think me so _twisted_ as to allow myself such feelings for those in my charge? I am not fresh out of training either, so now you have graduated we are no closer in age; I am old enough to be your father. You are also a half-blood; did you think what your family and muggle friends should think of a same-sex relationship? Use your mind for once! Do you know how same-sex marriage works between wizards? Do you know what they do when they wish for children? Do you realise I _loathe_ children? You wish for a family.

“You must stop acting like a short-sighted teenager and be a man! What will you do when – _God forbid –_ we finally have the life you wish? I will grow old over time, perhaps infirm or decrepit, and you shall still be a relatively young man, not long out of middle age . . . you shall long for a life that I cannot provide. You shall wish for adventure, when I shall wish for sleep and a warm meal. You will hate me. You will regret your choice. Enough of this -! Go back to your fiancé and make amends with her.”

“Don’t tell me how to feel!” Harry snapped. “If things were to grow between us, we would work them out and discuss those issues in detail. I just want a starting point . . . a _chance_. Why can’t we just get to know each other? We can see where to go from there.”

“I think not. My decision is final.”

Severus could not stand any more. The party in the adjoining room suddenly felt far too noisy and claustrophobic, and he was forced to remind himself that he had much more important things to do than listen to romantic fantasies of an ex-student. He had to question the sanity of Harry to seemingly fall for an authority figure . . . a _father_ figure . . . the younger man appeared so much better adjusted than his interests implied, but this was not the time or place to discuss his clear psychological issues. Severus shook his head.

It was mere naivety on Harry’s part; he had not considered the long-term issues and – even more infuriatingly – he had not considered the reactions of those closest to them. Severus knew that any relationship with this man, including a simple platonic friendship, would be viewed as nothing more than a mid-life crisis, whilst his enemies would view it as an insidious way to somehow harm Harry. He knew that Harry would not example the brunt of criticism, especially where the papers were concerned. They would question his sanity and his loyalties, both of which would be legitimate questions in Severus’ view, because any kind of friendship between them would have to be insane by definition.

He drew in a deep and silent breath. In a few moments Lucius would seek him out; it would be his duty as the host to make sure that all was well, even if the thin veneer of politeness would be nothing more than a mere mask. It was enough to force Severus to try to think of some plausible excuse to leave without any offence. There was no point in staying any longer, for every moment that he stayed was a moment in which he caused Harry pain.

“This ends now,” said Severus. “You cannot be serious.”

“You think I’m not serious?”

“Indeed.”

Severus turned so that his body was angled away. He did not wish to face his ex-pupil, lest he somehow give the impression that he reciprocated the other man’s feelings in some way, but he made sure to face the party and its guests. The younger of the two disliked being the centre of attention, as such he would not force his way before Severus, for to do so would be to put him in the direct gaze of many people. This rejection was for Harry’s own good. Severus cast a brief glance over to the party and felt grateful for an excuse to leave.

“I’m not serious? Well, you agreed to meet me, so –”

“I did no such thing! How dare you insinuate that I said –?”

There was no opportunity to finish his thought. No sooner did the feelings of shock and confusion begin to seep in did Harry act without thinking; he moved forward and took a firm hold of Severus’ arms in his grasp, and already all eyes were upon them. It was humiliating to be caught so off-guard before others, especially when he lacked the strength to throw Harry from him due to his new weakness, and he could not struggle without causing more or a scene than already was taking place. He sneered at the man before him.

He tried to pull away as subtly as possible, but Harry held tighter and moved quickly. In a matter of seconds, the younger man stood on tiptoes and placed a kiss against Severus’ lips; those lips were softer than he imagined, although he would not claim to have imagine such a thing often, and he recognised that the movements were clumsy and awkward. It was a surprisingly innocent kiss, which made it clear that he was acting more out of a need to prove a point or cause a scene, and the lack of passion indicated that this was not done out of feeling alone. Severus kept his lips tight, refusing to give Harry access in a public place.

It was then that Harry pulled back with an infernal smile. He looked smug and contented, more so than any Severus could ever remember him appearing, and he seemed so damned full of himself! Harry blushed a little, indicating some embarrassment, but the fact was that he had taken advantage of Severus’ weakness and kissed him without his consent. They both tried to avoid glancing at the crowd of people, even as Severus felt himself whiten with rage. Harry coughed nervously and ran his hand through his hair.

“Hog’s head? Let’s say tomorrow at eight?”

“Go to hell, Potter,” snapped Severus. “I refuse.”

“I just proved I’m serious, didn’t I? I mean, everyone just saw me _kiss_ you, which means I have nothing to lose in terms of my reputation now. You can’t claim this is just a phase or that I’m using you or that my coming out will be an issue . . . I’m out. Be there, please?”

“I should curse you where you stand!”

“You won’t, though. This is the worst embarrassment that you’ll feel, Severus, because from here on out people can either accept it or forget it. You might as well keep moving forward, because we can’t go back from here. We don’t have to actually be a couple or act on anything, but we do now have a reasonable excuse in the eyes of everyone else to spend time together. That’s all I ask and want. I just want to get to know you.”

Severus took a further step back, so that he could regain his composure and send a deadly glare to the younger man. He raised his fist to his lips, as if somehow he could beat away the feeling that lingered, and curled his lip in contempt. Only Potter could turn a date into a threat! The temptation to hex him was hard to resist, but somehow he managed to hold back on his fury and keep calm, even as his body screamed at him to blast the man through the hall and leave him sprawled on the floor. He hated being used like this.

“Bastard,” he hissed.

“You love me for it,” Harry teased. “Don’t be late.”

That was apparently that. He watched the boy quickly turn and leave, much in the same manner that he himself had walked away during their last meeting, and he was effectively left standing alone and unable to get the last word. It was difficult to hate Harry, as a part of him was curious as to what tomorrow would entail, and – in all honesty – he wanted to see the young man again. He admired his bravery and initiative. He smiled to himself and made his way out of the manor so that he could make his way home.

“And so it begins.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter Three  **

“I’m not asking for your permission, Ron!”

Harry cast a dark look to Ron. There was a sharp pain in his temples, which was sign enough that a stress-induced headache was on its way, and he could even feel the scar on his forehead throb with the frustration at the situation. He thought – for one horrible moment – that Voldermort had returned; the pain was nowhere near as intense, but the residual fear stuck with him and likely would until the day he died. It was just awful that his friends of all people caused this feeling, because he expected _some_ understanding.

The tension was thick in the air, which made it difficult to think clearly. He could understand why Ron would feel the way that he did, but he couldn’t help other than to feel a stab of anger at how unfair it all was, because it put him in a very awkward position. It felt as if he were being given an ultimatum: Severus or Ronald. Harry could remember the times when they fell out in the past, but – in all honesty – he wasn’t sure that he could go through all that again, not least when he needed support. How could Ronald have finished the war with the same prejudices as when it started? Ronald felt like an anchor; he weighed him down in the past, when all Harry wanted was to sail into the future. Why couldn’t Ron grow up?

Ronald sat opposite Harry with something akin to a pout. It was childish, but it wasn’t meant contemptuously or patronisingly as it may have done from anyone else, even if it reminded Harry of Draco in that moment. Hermione sat between them like a physical buffer; it was almost like being back in school, especially when she was the only one willing to see both sides to the situation. It was equally unfair upon her, of course, due to her relationship with Ron and her friendship with Harry, but there was little that could be done about that.

“Ron, can we _not_ do this right now?”

“Do what?” Ron shrugged. “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“You know what I mean! You’re like a brother to me,” said Harry. “The very last thing I want to do is to get into an argument, especially when we know from the past how they usually end up. We _fought_ together. We _grew_ together. I just –! I respect your opinion more than anything, but I refuse to let things get like they were just because _you_ can’t accept _my_ choices! You -! _God,_ you can be such a prat!”

“Oh, _I’m_ the prat? Says the guy trying to get into Snape’s trousers! He cursed my brother; George is still missing half an ear, which isn’t funny no matter how many jokes he tells! Yeah, I’m the prat . . . well, at least I’m not planning to marry Dumbledore’s murderer!”

“Sod off, Ron! We haven’t even been on a date yet,” snapped Harry. “Hell, if you would just _listen_ to me, you’d know that I’m pretty sure that he doesn’t even _want_ to date. We’re just – well, we’re just getting to know each other, even _that_ he’s pretty reluctant about. You’re my best friend . . . you’re supposed to support me and stand by me, not lecture me! You can’t control me. You can’t just snap your fingers and tell me what to do! It never worked in the past, so why the hell would it work now?”

They sat in an awkward silence. The way that Ron curled his lips spoke volumes about what he thought about the situation, but – having matured a little – he knew better than to voice his _exact_ thoughts to a tense audience. It was such an expression typical of Ron, which was worn so often in their youth and often reserved solely for Harry, but it was one of conflict . . . filled with both the pain of betrayal and the affection of love. Ron tried to hide his concern by affecting a sneer, but behind those pursed lips and reddened ears was a distinct pain.

It was unusually quiet in the _Hog’s Head_ , which meant that there was very little distraction from everything that they felt, and – in fact – the only patrons that day seemed to be just the three of them and no more. The only break in the silence was the bartender’s shuffling. There would be a little shuffle of Hermione’s feet on occasion, and as she rustled it would send a cloud of dust and dirt to lift and rise, due to the fact that the pub was kept in less than perfect condition and even just to breathe the air left one feeling dirty. The disgust in Hermione’s expression was evident, especially by how she fidgeted and tried her best to touch nothing, but it was a vain effort. The dirt seemed almost sentient and infiltrated everywhere.

The windows were so encrusted with dirt that even the moonlight seemed distorted, whilst the lights inside were mostly candlelight and wavered too dramatically for his tastes, and he couldn’t help other than to let out a low sigh. There was an odd smell from the half-melted candles on the tabletops, which made him wonder whether this had been the best choice to meet Severus later. He hoped the casual atmosphere would suit the older man, whilst the rather ramshackle structure put off most visitors to the village, and he hoped that it would leave them with some privacy. He also hoped that his friends would leave soon . . .

There was a ticking clock somewhere along the bar, but the ticking hands seemed to be broken or slightly off, which created a disturbingly irregular rhythm that only served to make him all the more nervous. It was already a half-past seven, which meant that Severus ought to arrive very shortly, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether Ron was trying to rile him so that their meeting would go badly. Ron only wanted what was best for him, but surely the ultimate decision was up to Harry and no one else?

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” muttered Ron.

“How? _How_ are you looking out for me?” Harry leaned back and pushed his butter-beer away from him. “How is slagging off Severus and questioning my decisions ‘looking out’ for me? I didn’t hear these kinds of insults from Hermione or Luna.”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t, would you? They’re too nice to tell you the truth.”

“Well, at least you admit that you’re not being nice. Good to know.”

“Merlin -! He treated you like scum, Harry!”

“He had to! He was a spy!”

Harry took in a deep breath to compose himself. It was true that Ron had a point, in a way, because Severus had always maintained a rather distant position around Harry, as well as a cruel and belittling façade whenever forced to directly deal with him. Ron cared, which was something that Harry would not deny. Ron had taken time from work to meet them, still in his work robes and exhausted from the day, and yet he was here . . . for _Harry_.

“Look,” Harry said, “I’m not saying he’s a great guy –”

“Good! You sound delusional enough as it is, Harry! He might have been a spy, but it doesn’t excuse how he spoke to you in private! He’s a sadist! You’ve had bruises from him, plus you cried because of him, and he’s pissed you off enough to draw your wand -! I just don’t get it! If he’s agreeing to meet you, it’s just so he can brag about banging the Boy-Who-Lived to his Death Eater buddies! You can’t just expect me to stand back and watch you get used up!”

“No, I’m expecting you to _listen_ to me that there’s more to Severus than that! He -! Look, he’s the only person that’s ever seen me for my faults, because everyone else sort of romanticised me and saw me as something I wasn’t. He’s different.”

“Ginny was different too,” mumbled Ron. “Can’t say there are many girls that make great Quidditch players and can win in a fight, plus she’s smart and people tell me that she’s pretty, plus you could have been an _official_ part of the family! What can you say about Severus? He’s just some greasy, old dungeon-bat. He’s mean, he quit his job, he –”

“ _He saved my life!_ He’s intelligent, he’s cultured, and he’s exceptionally talented. He stopped seeing me as my father or some amalgamation of my parents long ago, plus he’s starting to see me as my own person with my own merits. Do you have _any_ idea how refreshing it is to meet someone that sees you for the good _and_ the bad, but also _challenges_ you to be better than what you are and _calls_ you on the bullshit? I’ve never met anyone like him. I was just as judgemental as he was, so we missed out on any kind of relationship, but –”

“Now you think you two can just fall in love? You’ll replace Ginny for him?”

“Even if we’re just friends, I’ll be lucky. I’m not replacing anyone.”

“Oh for -! Hermione, back me up here!”

Harry rolled his eyes. He would admit that he was scared of what a relationship with Severus represented, but he was not afraid of Severus himself. The fact was that this was a whole new start; he buried his feelings deep in resentment and rivalry, as a student at Hogwarts, so that he had struggled to see those around him for who they truly were. In the past he transferred all his hatred for Voldermort into all those associated with him, including – at the time – Severus. He could finally see Severus as a whole person, distinct from his duties and actions, and he wanted to get to know him properly and from afresh. It was just difficult.

He feared this change, simply because – with it – there came a fear of rejection. He pulled his butter-beer back towards him and wrapped his hands around it, where he nursed it with a rather dejected look. There had been a sense of safety in dating Ginny, especially as he knew that it could have easily have ended in a stable family, which was the one thing that he always wanted, and yet he _needed_ to take this risk. He wanted to finally feel _happy_ , not just content, and didn’t he deserve that? He wanted to see where this could go.

It was then Hermione cleared her throat.

Until that moment, she remained silent for the most part. Hermione simply listened to what was being said and listened quite seriously, whilst she occasionally intervened only to stop the argument from spilling over into an outright fight. It reassured Harry to know that she was unbiased to the situation, as well as willing to listen to both sides, and he was curious as to what her opinion would be on the situation. He also appreciated her support, even if she did have doubts and concerns about the matter. She was a good friend.

There was one small thing that amused him, however, and that was how she appeared more concerned with the fact that she was forced to skip out on some paperwork to mediate their discussion, especially when she seemed to enjoy dedicating most of her evenings to work. She remained calm for the most part, because she clearly trusted Harry to choose what was best and to do what was right, and – due to that – the craving to get home to finish her work was starting to clearly claw at her, which made him smile. Her brown hair hung loose over her shoulders, whilst she sat with legs folded and a scroll of parchment on her lap. She would glare at Ron every now and again, as if to warn him to behave.

“I think what Ron’s trying to say,” Hermione said softly, “is that we’re worried.”

“I know you’re worried, but –”

“No, please, just hear me out? I _know_ that you care about Severus, but sometimes . . . sometimes it’s not enough to just care about a person. Relationships . . . in any form . . . are about so many things, but sometimes – no matter how much we love the other person – it just isn’t enough. Ron wants to make sure you are certain about this, but I would rather know whether either of you are _ready_ for any kind of relationship with the other.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Hermione blushed a little in embarrassment. It was easy to tell that she had begun to feel a little riled up, as she cast a firm gaze across to him, but she was less sensitive than Ron and capable of controlling her emotions in a mature manner. Hermione was also fiercely protective of those she loved, which meant that she wouldn’t go easy on him, especially if she thought that he would be hurting himself or Severus in the process, and he worried for a moment that she would try to talk him out of it. He didn’t want to alienate her.

“He’s not long been awake,” said Hermione. “He’s awoken to find the war over and many of his students and colleagues have passed away, and – as he’s dealing with that – he’s told that the boy that hated him is now a man that respects him. He’s bound to be confused at best, but hurt at worst . . . there’s no knowing how he feels for you, but he’ll need time to come to terms with his emotions and his grief regardless. Come to think of it . . . are _you_ ready?”

“Of course I am, Hermione!”

“Well, you can’t blame me for asking! Severus couldn’t even trust you enough to meet you at the party, just as you don’t trust him to show up now . . . if you did, you wouldn’t have chosen _now_ to talk to Ron and me about this. We’re just a safety net in case he doesn’t arrive. You’re clinging to Severus for something that he might not be able to give, and you’re giving him hope for something that you might not be able to commit to giving! Think about it, Harry . . . are either of you ready to see the other? If you can honestly say that are, I’ll trust you, but if you have any doubts – _any at all_ – then you need to stop this before it starts.”

Harry gave a small wince. He knew that she didn’t mean to be cruel, but there was just something so absolute about her words that made him think twice, especially when he knew that she had a good point. It was difficult to say what was right; both men were somewhat broken by the war and by their pasts, but perhaps that didn’t have to be a bad thing? A part of Harry hoped that they could help each other to grow and to heal, although another part of him knew that two drowning men were just as likely to pull each other beneath the surface . . .

The air felt cold suddenly, which wasn’t helped by the draught from the door. He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his face, where he then looked to Hermione with a saddened expression of resignation, as he tried to decide what was right. There was a part of him that wanted to argue it could be no less unhealthy than George dating his brother’s girlfriend, but it felt beyond inappropriate to make such an observation. He appreciated Severus for both his flaws and virtues, although it would be difficult to convince people of that, and yet Hermione was right that sometimes respect and love weren’t enough to sustain a relationship. Harry drew in a deep breath and watched the mist that appeared before his mouth in the cold air.

He knew that Severus’ trust was destroyed; the older man held no faith in himself or the world at large, and his self-hatred was so severe that the fact he successfully engineered an antidote for Nagini’s poison – rather than accepting his inevitable demise – surprised him more than anything. Harry still struggled to believe that Severus strove to survive any potential attacks, as well as fought through his coma, and clearly a part of him _wanted_ life in some form. Severus was fragile emotionally and physically, and it would be a huge responsibility to support him, as the slightest mistake could break him.

Harry needed to be sure that he would never abandon Severus. If he fought to gain the older man’s trust, only to break it, then there was a strong chance that Severus would never trust anyone else ever again . . . it was a huge burden to bear. It was possible that with some work and dedication that they could provide for the other what they lacked, so long as they were careful not to become co-dependent, but . . . did Severus even want that?

“I was planning on going slow anyway,” said Harry.

“All the longer for you both to get attached,” replied Hermione sadly.

“The war feels like it was just yesterday.” He drew in a staggered breath. “I guess – for Severus – it really _was_ just yesterday, but I just know that the war has made me really appreciate what I have. I don’t want to _settle_. I want to take risks. If Severus is here –”

“What if he wasn’t? Would you settle for someone other than him then? I know that you and Ginny weren’t perfectly matched, but you _were_ happy and you _could_ have easily had the family that you’ve always wanted . . . I’m not saying that you should make do with the status quo, just because it’s _easier_ , but clearly you loved her on some level. Do you really want to give that up? What is it about Severus that you’d prioritise him over Ginny?”

“Yeah,” Ron chipped in. “I mean, it’s not as though you _owe_ him anything! You’ve paid him back plenty for all he’s done! No other headmaster got a portrait for _ditching_ the school, plus you got him exonerated and cleared his name and loads! What’s the point in trying to be anything more than that? The old git won’t appreciate it.”

“I don’t care whether he appreciates it,” snapped Harry. “Look, I don’t really want to think about what _could_ have happened had he died, because it’s just too morbid when so many people _did_ die during the war! I may have stayed with Ginny, yeah, but I – I feel stronger feelings for Severus and I owe it to myself to see where they could lead, because it’s _not_ fair on Ginny or me to settle. You don’t get it, Ron, do you? I have feelings for him . . . _feelings._ I just want to take a chance. I’d be happy with just his friendship.”

“So you’d throw away Ginny for a possible _friendship_. That’s just great.”

“Harry,” said Hermione, “you can’t even _trust_ him to show.”

“He’ll -! He’ll show,” muttered Harry.

The uncertainty was clear in his voice. Ron leaned forward on the table, which created a sense of intimacy and reminded him of their friendship, whilst Hermione reached out to squeeze his arm reassuringly. Severus had – for all intents and purposes – been coerced into agreeing to meet him, which probably didn’t help with his trust issues at all, and he likely feared arriving only to see a sea of faces ready to mock and laugh at him. He didn’t believe he could be forgiven, so he would expect the very worst. It was possible Severus wouldn’t show, but he would wait regardless, because to leave would only confirm Severus’ beliefs.

“Harry,” said Hermione.

“I won’t lie,” he continued sadly. “I know he might not show, but I knew that was always a risk when I started to pursue a relationship. If something like this bothers me, I’d have no right to associate with him at all . . . I can’t change him. I can only be there enough that – in time – he realises that I’m not going anywhere and grows to trust me, but it’ll be up to him to make that step and accept what I’m prepared to give.”

“Oh, great relationship _that_ is,” Ron mumbled. “You can’t trust him to show up and he can’t trust you to be here. You guys are going to have a hell of a time arranging dates! Plus, you’re totally giving _him_ all the control! He’s already in charge of it all!”

“Shut it, Ron! It’s hard enough without you poking holes in it! If you don’t get it –”

“No, I _don’t_ get it! That’s the problem! Can you blame me for being suspicious? Come on, mate! Even if the old slime-bag isn’t using you, he still isn’t good enough to date you _or_ befriend you! You’re a decent guy . . . even without all the defeating You-Know-Who, you are still pretty cool. I’m not going to call you ‘handsome’, because it’d be – you know – _weird_ , but a lot of girls seem into you, so yeah . . . you got to be alright, haven’t you? I just don’t get why you couldn’t pick Ginny, that’s all. Our kids could have hung out and stuff.”

“They still can, Ron,” said Hermione.

“Yeah? Snape’s not even human! He’d probably eat his young after mating or something, like those spider things! Anyway, it doesn’t make much difference, does it? Ginny is still ten times better than his ugly mug! Harry needs glasses, sure, but he’s not blind!”

“Ron, don’t be so rude! Behave!”

Hermione struck Ron across his head. It was not that she particularly liked Severus, but she had always taken a strong position against cruelty and bullying. Harry heard her mutter loudly, despite how she leaned across to whisper to Ron, how that ‘physical attributes do not define a person’. They never really thought how their teachers would think of their comments at school, but now Harry knew how bullied and teased Severus had been . . . it must have been devastating him during his tenure teaching. Ron rubbed the back of his head with a pout.

They stayed silent for a moment, as their empty glasses were collected and Hermione raised a hand to signal for some more, but – in all honesty – he felt awkward sitting with them, because he felt as if they had reached a stalemate. He knew that Ron cared deeply about him, even if he expressed it in an awful way sometimes, but his idiotic insult raised a good point, one that lingered in Harry’s mind: how did same-sex couples have families in the wizarding world? He shook his head at the thought. It was something that was too far ahead to even consider, but it was something that he _needed_ in his life . . . would he have to sacrifice that, if he were to be with someone like Severus? He needed to think about it.

Their drinks were brought over rather quickly. Harry reached for his butter-beer and raised it to his lips, where he savoured the taste for a long moment; he knew he was legal to drink alcohol, but there was just something so nostalgic about the beverage. He drank deeply and looked to the clock by the wall, but the minute hand stopped and it was difficult to get an accurate idea of the time. He put down his glass and gave forth a low sigh of frustration, before a quick charm gave him an idea of what he needed to know.

“Look, he’ll be here any minute,” said Harry.

“And if he isn’t?” Ron asked.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to go find him then, won’t I?”

Harry pushed his glass away so firmly that beer spilled over the rim. There were a few droplets that fell onto Hermione’s parchment, who let out a cry of indignation, but most fell onto the old wood of the table. He winced at how he inconvenienced her by his gesture, but she only gave him a stern look in return and shook her head. He was grateful that she didn’t call him on his behaviour. The room felt colder in that moment and he gave a slight shudder.

“I don’t have all the answers, Ron,” said Harry. “I wish I did, but I don’t. If he turns up, great, but if he doesn’t then please don’t say ‘I told you so’. Just be my friend, okay? Support me. If you don’t agree with what I’m doing, fine, but don’t hate me for it . . .”

“Mate, I don’t hate you at all! I _can’t_ hate you! I just . . . I don’t know . . . I need time to get my head around it, that’s all. You can’t blame me for needing time, can you?”

“It’s okay, I get it.”

Harry understood well. It was understandable that Ron would be worried, but he couldn’t help than to feel conflicted about the issue. He smiled warmly as Ron checked the time and finished his drink, before he stood up and cricked his neck and stretched his limbs, and a part of Harry worried why Ron seemed quick to leave. Ron occasionally sent nervous glances to Hermione, but – having so rare few moments away from work – she would likely spend the rest of the evening within the village, even if it meant ignoring Ron’s sulking.

They remained in silence, whilst Hermione stood up in turn and began to fuss about Ron, and – if he were honest – it was somewhat sweet to see them both interact. The small acts of intimacy between them spoke of love, including the gentle touches and stolen kisses, and it was endearing to see them act in that way. It amused him how Ron offered a hand to steady Hermione, just as how she huffed as if he were insulting her autonomy, and they had a natural rhythm between them. Ron eventually shook Harry’s hand and gave him a relaxed hug, before Hermione followed suit. She whispered for him not to be a stranger during the term-times, as if she expected him to overwork himself.

“Thanks, Ron,” said Harry. “You heading home?”

“Yeah, I need to get some rest,” Ron replied. “I won’t wait up, but tell me all about it tomorrow, okay? You tell him, though, that if he hurts you then I’ll hex his balls off. No one hurts my mate, even if they have some old grudge from the past.”

“For God’s sake, Ron,” Hermione muttered. “Harry can take care of himself!”

“I know, but I just want him to know I have his back!”

“I think he knows that, really.”

Harry smiled warmly at Hermione. It was reassuring to see her return the smile, but then she took the opportunity to gently take a hold of Ron’s arm and firmly led him to the inn’s entrance. It always surprised him just how strong she could be; Hermione often projected a sensitive image of someone easily hurt, but she was able to command respect and take a charge of any situation, without ever putting someone down in the process. Even now, she moved with grace and confidence, which was incredibly impressive.

He followed them to the door, where he listened to Ron’s muttered complaints with humour, and shuddered as the draught from the door hit him hard. It creaked open in a way that suggested it didn’t quite fit the frame, perhaps swollen from damp and a water leakage, whilst snowflakes began to blow inside like their own personal flurry. The light outside was almost disorientating, when inside the inn had been so dark and dreary. Harry huddled into himself to keep warm, whilst they wandered outside to part ways, and Harry desperately hoped they would leave quickly so he could return inside to the relative warmth. It started to seem that this inn was perhaps not the best place to meet Severus for the first time.

The sky outside was black, whilst the stars stood out rather beautifully against its backdrop, and in the distance he could see the moon bright and clear. There were very few clouds in the sky tonight, which meant that the view was not obscured. Harry wondered whether Severus enjoyed star-gazing, which was something that he missed growing-up and couldn’t get enough as an adult, but not all people were as ‘foolishly sentimental’ as he could be. It was easy to get lost in their glow, as he stared upwards with a smile.

“Take care, Harry,” said Hermione.

Hermione placed a kiss upon his cheek. It was a gentle gesture, which reminded of him of the days when they were back in school and studied together, and it was enough to make him wish that he stayed for the ‘eighth year’ as she did. He enjoyed the way that his hands felt in her gloved ones, just as he enjoyed the way her smile seemed so bright and sincere, and he gave a shuddered sigh and nodded his head in acknowledgement of her.

“Let me know how it goes?”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll tell you right after Ron.”

“You know,” she said jestingly, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d be rather jealous. It seems that Ron is always the first one to know anything. I have to say that I’m surprised though, seeing that he has the sensitivity of a mule.”

“Hey,” Ron snapped. “I’m right here you know!”

“You know I’m right, Ronald.”

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered.

They said their goodbyes quickly, as Ron dashed to the nearest apparition point to return to sign out of work, due to his shift still technically being in progress. Ron had a schedule twice as busy as any of them, so it was understandable that he would be in a hurry, but a part of Harry wished that he could have lingered just a little longer. It was when they stood watching Ron leave that Hermione spotted something in the distance; a small smile graced her features. He followed her gaze and caught sight of what Hermione saw: Severus.

It was clear that Severus was dressed rather smartly. He managed to retain his usual sense of style, whilst simultaneously looking almost like an entirely different person. The cape and robes that he wore were rather old, with the ends slightly frayed and the style dated, but the overall look was one of a timeless classic. There was a subtle silver-and-green pattern along the hem, which made it clear the event he wore it to was a formal one, and – for an insane moment – Harry wondered whether Severus had dressed up for him. There must have been some sort of social event at Hogwarts, one in which Severus was unable to avoid, and Harry was grateful for that. He looked . . . handsome. He had even pulled back his hair so that his face was free and clearly seen, and it only added to his look.

Harry honestly hadn’t expected Severus to arrive, but he was glad that he did. The feeling that Severus was there only to set things straight, to tell Harry to leave him alone, was a strong suspicion that wouldn’t quite fade, and yet he couldn’t quite suppress the hope that this may somehow be something more. Hermione cast an almost devilish gaze to Harry, before she walked confidently up to Severus and shook his hand. It amazed him how unafraid she appeared. It was almost as if she missed the furious expression that he wore, along with the way his hand clenched slightly for his hidden wand. Severus wasn’t impressed.

“It’s good to see you, Professor Snape.”

“I believe it is just _Mister_ Snape now, Miss Granger,” he said coldly.

Harry ran across the road and just a little ahead to his friend. The snow underfoot made him slip a few times, before he managed to gain his balance with a blush of embarrassment. He nudged Hermione in her side, although she pretended not to notice and only a slight frown on her expression gave away that she felt it, and she merely nudged Harry back. It was a regret that he left his coat in the pub, expecting to be inside quickly, as he felt both incredibly cold and unable to hide himself within something. He gave a sigh.

“I’m so sorry, Severus,” said Harry. “I was just –”

“I’m sorry, Mister Snape,” Hermione continued. “It must be strange to no longer be working as a teacher; I know I – for one – will find it difficult to forget the ‘sir’ and ‘professor’ every time we speak! You look very smart this evening, were you doing something important?”

“I am sorry, Miss Granger, but I was not aware that I would be meeting with _you_.”

“Oh, I’ll be going now. I do hope we can speak properly in future, though.”

“Yes, I _live_ to socialise with former students.”

Hermione cast a glance to Harry, as if to ask whether he was _sure_ he was certain about this, but he gave a nervous smile back and hunched forward just a little. He put his hands into his pockets in a desperate desire to retain some warmth, whilst he just knew his ears and nose were probably a violent shade of red at this point. Hermione gave a sigh and shook her head, before she resumed her beautifully sincere smile and nodded to Severus in acknowledgement of him, before turning just slightly to make it clear that she was about to leave.

“Well, I better be off,” she said. “Have a nice evening, you two.”

“We will,” Harry answered. “See you later, Hermione.”

“Don’t get into too much trouble.”

Harry watched his friend leave with an embarrassed scowl, although – whilst he knew that she was sincerely trying to social and welcoming – she was also teasing him in a way that he was far from used to experiencing. He watched as Hermione walked to the edge of the village, just to make sure that she made her way safely; he knew that she could take care of herself quite well, but he couldn’t help the instinct to look out for her. It was only when she was out of sight that he turned to Severus, but found himself blushing all the more.

Severus commanded attention. He stood in a way that spoke of confidence, with his posture perfect and his head held high. It amazed Harry that Severus could look so focussed ahead, without the slightest hint distraction or disinterest, and – whilst it was an admirable feat – it gave the impression that he was only there out of force. The way he still wore black made it seem that he sought to blend into the night, but there were a few subtle changes to his style that spoke of some deeper change. The war had changed them more than just emotionally: Severus wore an exceptionally high collar, along with sleeves so long that they hid most of his hands, and clearly it was so that he could hide the scars of Nagini. He was self-conscious.

They stood in silence awkwardly, whilst Harry tried to consider what to say next. He felt worried on seeing Severus, because clearly the other man wasn’t eating and already his skin seemed so much more sallow and oily, as if he had given up taking care of his body in general. It was clear – on closer inspection – that he had pulled back his hair to hide some of the grease, whilst there was the heavy scent of potions on his clothes. He couldn’t have been brewing, if he had been at some formal event, but – had he _been_ at a formal event – he would have relished the chance to escape the crowds. Perhaps Harry was merely a scapegoat.

“Do you often invite your friend to such ‘dates’?” Severus asked.

“I think we’ve established this _isn’t_ a date,” muttered Harry. “Not really; I mean, not unless you _want_ it to be a date. I just want a chance to get to know one another, maybe see where things can go from there. That’s not too difficult, is it?”

“Why don’t you tell me, Harry? It is clear – from my perspective – that you distrusted my arrival enough to ask for company as you wait, unless you instead wanted someone to gossip with and help with your mockery of my person? In either case, I do not see why I should trust in a person that does not even trust in my arrival. My behaviour yesterday was – perhaps – inappropriate, but if you are to base all my future appointments upon one mistake . . .”

“We’re even then, aren’t we? You made a mistake to ditch me, but I made a mistake not to trust you. Let’s call tonight a chance to start afresh.” Harry sighed and shrugged. “I guess a line like ‘why don’t you come inside’ really wouldn’t work right now, huh?”

“ _Indeed_. You should have wrapped up warmer, Mr Potter.”

“I didn’t realise we’d be standing here like this.”

“Is that so?”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

It was clear that Severus was annoyed, as he clenched his hands into tight fists and tightened his lips into a thin line. The cape upon his shoulders fluttered about behind him in the wind, whilst the snow blew about his ankles and collected at the sides, and yet – no matter how angry he appeared – there was an almost flicker of curiosity. He narrowed his black eyes in frustration, but the roundness to them indicated something of an interest in the unfolding events, and it gave the impression that he was _testing_ Harry.

Harry tried not to concern himself with Severus’ motivations, because – after all – the important thing was that he was _there_. If he merely wanted an excuse to leave the party, he could have gone anywhere . . . he could have made potions at home, helped in the infirmary, even simply excused himself without explanation . . . yet he chose to meet _Harry._ If he were merely curious whether Harry would show up, he could have simply asked Aberforth or sent someone in his place. It may have been wishful thinking, but he liked to think this boded well for any future relationship between them. There was still a lot for them to discuss and work through, but at least Severus was interested in trying to work through them.

Harry couldn’t help but to blush, as it felt strange to get to know someone all over again, almost as if this _were_ a date in some ways. He brought his hands together and blew warm air onto them, as he bounced from foot to foot and tried to keep warm despite being severely underdressed for the snow. It was true that he didn’t expect to be left long outside, but Severus appeared determined to drag this out and prevent him a speedy retreat inside, and he gave a small sigh as he tried to remind himself that Severus could be so much more than petty, and that he needed to focus on both sides to the older man.

“Are you looking for a reason to go inside with me?”

“I’m looking for a reason why I should _befriend_ you,” said Severus. “I admit to being somewhat afraid that I shall enter that pub, only to find a room full of reporters or an army of your friends to point and laugh at me. I shall not be made a spectacle.”

“Do you really think that I would -?” Harry drew in a loud hiss of breath. “I’m not that cruel, Severus, but if you think that I am then you can leave right now. I _know_ we’re both in a vulnerable place right now, but clearly you have to have _some_ interest in pursuing a relationship, else why would you even be here? Just take a chance. If I blow it, what have you lost? You’ll go on your way and I’ll go on mine.”

Harry folded his arms to stave off the cold. He placed his arms under his armpits for warmth, as he hunched over in an oddly embarrassing way, before he realised that Severus was glowering at him coldly. It was rather intense, because the way he stared almost made it seem that he was staring into Harry’s soul, searching for something unseen. It was possible that he was trying to read Harry’s mind, but – if he were – Harry had no intention of stopping him, even if it were possible for him to do so.

“Very well,” said Severus. He spoke in a terse tone: “I will add that _you_ were the one to coerce me into attending, as such _you_ shall be the one to pay for this fruitless endeavour, and – just so you know – I have expensive tastes.”

“I kind of figured that much, but you can pay me back on our next date.”

“I thought this was not a date, Mr Potter.”

“Well, _I_ thought we’d split the bill.”

It was just so typical of Severus to make something out of nothing. It felt like he was _determined_ to prove that he was the same potions master, as if nothing had changed, but _everything_ had changed. Harry also felt somewhat amused by Severus’ childish taunt, as if he thought that he could make Harry suffer by paying for the bill of all things, as if he had to get the final word and regain some element of control. A few moments later, after Severus appeared to digest what was said, he spoke once more:

“So you paying makes this a date?” Severus paused. “Very well.”

“Well – er – okay, then. So . . . after you?”

Severus paused to consider the gesture. It was as if he thought it an insult to be put first, perhaps it would be akin to weakness to accept it in turn, but the look in his eyes was one more of curiosity and disbelief than anything else. He could have refused to move, just as he could have left to return immediately home, but instead he nodded in acknowledgement and walked cautiously towards the inn with a heavy sigh of breath.

“Thank you, Harry,” he muttered.

Harry smiled. That one ‘thank you’ made it worth it.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. 
> 
> I won’t rule out further chapters, but I like to think this one provides some closure, and any other chapters will be – at the least – several months from now or more. It’s best to consider the story ‘complete’ at best, ‘discontinued’ at worst.

# Chapter Four

“Couldn’t you be a _little_ more friendly?”

Severus raised an eyebrow at the sudden remark.

It was difficult to endure the sight of his boyfriend in his private laboratory, especially when memories of failed potions experiments flooded back in a rather unnerving manner, but he drew in a deep breath to remain calm. These were not moments he enjoyed; it effectively dulled any romance whatsoever to be reminded of the past, especially when he thought how fragile and petulant Harry once seemed, almost in equal measure, and how much more childlike he appeared than his peers. It was enough to send shivers down Severus’ spine.

There was no denying that Harry was very much a man now, in both body and mind, and yet Severus would gladly admit that any physical intimacy was yet to happen, as it was still difficult to resolve the boy he knew to the man that he felt affection towards. The snide comments of some of his peers did not help matters, as they were only moderately less critical than those within the prattling papers, and hearing such wild accusations . . . love potions, Imperius curses, _deviant attractions_ . . . it was nearly enough to destroy the relationship before it begun. It was Harry’s stubbornness alone that saved what little they had and helped it to continue into what they now held.

“No,” said Severus. “I can _not_ be friendlier.”

“You’re my _boyfriend_ , Severus! It’s taken us – what? – a year to get to the point where you’re even willing to admit we’re something more than friends, but you _still_ can’t accept any criticism about your little Slytherin house? Aren’t we _past_ favouritism?”

“I admit we are a couple. I admit I find you attractive. I am even willing to _kiss_ those same lips that once _slandered_ my name and _ruined_ my reputation, but you ask me whether I am willing to hear you speak those same lies about my house . . . I am not. You may have thought me a vampire and a the ‘dungeon-bat’, and I have no doubt the perception of a child clouds the mind of an adult, but those were _my_ charges and _my_ responsibility.”

“So it’s a pride thing? You don’t want me to slag them off, as it’s like I’m slagging _you_ off?”

“No, this is a _responsibility_ ‘thing’, Harry. You are ‘slagging off’ children.”

“Yeah, _Death Eater_ children!”

Severus drew in another deep breath. It exhaled into something of a hiss, one that Harry heard and tensed at the sound, almost as if he expected to be thrown out of the laboratory or physically reprimanded. They had learned well enough to co-exist as equals, but sometimes memories of their past encounters clouded their current judgement, and so many arguments were resolved – more often than not – by one storming out and the other reduced to either tears or rage. It was something they were working on; as such Severus tried to remain calm.

The laboratory in his home was unlike that in school, so that it was smaller and more efficient, designed entirely for its owner and not for the generic use of hundreds of students, and – as such – he felt a certain possessive ownership over the space. It was a chore in itself to find the strength to allow Harry into his personal and private laboratory; it left him feeling somewhat vulnerable and exposed, as he revealed the most treasured part of himself and the part of himself never seen by anyone else, and yet this was not something he could work the courage to admit. The ingredients collected over _decades_ . . . the antique equipment handed down through _generations_ . . . the priceless vial handled by a _fool_ . . .

“ _Give me that,”_ Severus snapped.

Severus reached out and snatched the vial, before he placed it back by its brothers upon the shelves up high, as Harry glared at him with eyes beautiful and filled with anger. It was a passion that they often redirected into what Harry termed as ‘make-out sessions’, but such a routine was not sustainable and only temporarily distracted from their issues, rather than actually solving the problems at hand, and – as such – they promised one another to ‘communicate’ whenever angry. Harry seemingly forgot such a promise, as he seemed content to glare daggers rather than to attempt to _discuss_ his frustration.

It was clear to Severus that he was angry at being treated like a child, at having an item seemingly worthless taken from him without explanation, and yet Severus was also furious at having such an intimate space taken so trivially and thoughtlessly. He sighed and returned to his worktable, where he stood tall and leaned over the cauldron. The fumes were strong and gave him something of a headache from the long hours spent working, whilst the heat from the flames made his skin feel dry, and this was _not_ the time to talk.

“That was a priceless item, Harry,” said Severus.

Harry’s lips appeared white at that moment, as if he were straining not to roll his eyes or speak out of turn, and such self-restraint made Severus wish to smile. It took all his strength to keep an impassive expression, as he watched the cauldron indifferently. There was a moment of silence, before Harry sighed and walked around the worktable and sat across from Severus, where he leaned an elbow on the table and rested his head in his hands, and he looked somewhat sheepish as he refused to make eye contact with Severus.

“You could have said,” muttered Harry.

“I was not aware that I needed to warn you against touching items not in your possession,” replied Severus. “You wish to take out relationship further? You must recognise that every relationship is unique and presents with it a unique set of boundaries. It is difficult to allow you to even so much as _stand_ there, Harry, as any distraction in potion making can prove _fatal_ , as such you are the very first person in this laboratory. I _thought_ I could trust you.”

“I -! I didn’t know that it was so important to you . . . I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t have anything to call my own growing up, so the idea of sharing never bothered me, because nothing was really mine, anyway. I was just fidgeting . . . something to do.”

“You remind me too much of your father at times.”

“Look, I just wanted to -!”

Severus raised a hand to silence Harry. The redness to the other man’s cheeks was something of a burden and a blessing; it reminded him of how passionate his boyfriend could be, but it also reminded him a little of the man that once tormented him, so that he found himself conflicted. It was difficult to see Harry as his own person at times, even with all the progress they made, and yet he knew that they would make no progress for so long as they clung to the past. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to see things clearly.

“Do you realise why I was so angry?”

“About the vial? I get it. You want to be with me, but you also want boundaries. You want time for yourself and a space for yourself . . . I _get_ that! I _respect_ that! It’s not as though I want to live in your pocket or be joined at the hip! I just forgot that I ought to –”

“I was referring more to your defamation of the Slytherin house.”

“Oh, that . . . then no. I don’t get why you were angry.”

“Of course, I should have known.”

Harry narrowed his eyes from across the table. The robes he wore were a tad frayed and dirty, as Severus heard it told that a student allowed a spell to stray during class, and – as such – Severus felt a huge surge of relief that he no longer taught at such an establishment. There was something oddly comforting about the shelves lining the stone walls, where dust collected on glass and metal, and he enjoyed the draught from underneath the wooden door and the quiet from the rest of the house. It was peaceful.

They remained in silence for a few long moments, as Severus stirred at the potion the required number of times, before he sent a mocking smile at his boyfriend, who allowed his frown to deepen considerably. It would likely be that Harry would understand better with some explanation, but Severus was loath to explain the obvious . . . Harry once said that the ‘obvious’ was only such when one understood what one knew, with it being the duty of the ‘teacher’ to help one to understand, as no one was born _knowing_ , but such a rational and logical fact only made him resent the task all the more. Severus looked to Harry and nodded.

“You remember that I was head of house?”

“How could I forget? You treated Draco like he was the perfect student.”

“Then you realise I may be protective of my students,” explained Severus. “You understand what pressures a teacher must face, but – as of yet – you are not head of your house. It is quite different. It is a role that requires one to act as both mentor and parent to children away from home, many for the first time in their lives . . . I have been forced to escort panicking female students to the infirmary for feminine products, just as I have seen tough bullies reduced to bedwetting and tears during the night . . . it was a _nightmare_.

“It is not a side _you_ would have seen, but I can assure you that I am capable of patience when it is required of me, and – when children are in such a fragile and vulnerable position – it forces one to assume something of a paternal role and take responsibility over them, to the extent that one becomes _protective_ of them. I watched these children grow from bumbling idiots and naïve babes virtually fresh from the teat, into young men and women of great capability and talent, and I have stood by their side for the entirety of those seven years to protect them from the other houses and from other teachers. You slander Slytherin. You know _nothing_ of what it means to be Slytherin. You assume only you know suffering.”

Severus placed both hands down upon the wooden surface, which felt cool to the touch and grounded him in the moment, and yet it reminded him of the times where he would stand before his class and look out with a stern eye. There was a difference between this conversation and his teaching, which was that he _wanted_ to educate Harry on the matter, if only because they strove to be as much of equals as possible and he _owed_ it to the younger boy to speak to him honestly. Harry seemed confused, as he looked across to his boyfriend.

“Okay, so you’re protective of them,” said Harry.

“Yes, but not _unjustly_ so,” snapped Severus. “Tell me, what was your first day like, Harry? I imagine it felt good to be cheered and have everyone smile upon you, am I correct? There was a feast to end all feasts, new faces to memorise and befriend, and teachers that thought of you as the ‘chosen one’. It was likely a _magical_ time, pun intended. What do you think that a child sorted into Slytherin experiences? A life of luxury?

“The majority of these children come from bad home environments, or – more often than not – pure-blood families that teach discrimination, and I feel that may be a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. The treatment that Slytherin students receive will determine what teachings their children receive, which will determine how the future of that house will be shaped, as we all know that house placements run within families. These are vulnerable students with fragile minds, but the first thing they shall hear is the _booing_ of them, solely for being placed within a house, a placement that they have very little choice about . . .

“It will reinforce the ideas taught to them, especially when we consider how they shall be whispered by _every other student_ about their inevitable taking of the Dark Mark, just as how they shall be shunned and ostracised by their peers. They shall grow to be resentful and frustrated, which likely lead those past students to join said Death Eaters, because the Death Eaters promised them _acceptance_ that they never before felt, and – in turn – they would teach their future children about how great the Death Eaters were to join.”

Severus looked to Harry and saw the other man look somewhat sheepish. There was a look of conflict upon his features, combined with a look of confusion, and Severus could only hope that his partner understood at what he hinted. The truth was that _no one_ could excuse the actions of the Death Eaters, which was something Severus knew personally, as he would never forgive himself for what he did to Lily and those like her, especially when he looked into her eyes daily whenever he saw Harry, and yet something did not need to be ‘excusable’ to be ‘understandable’. He watched as the potion cooled and thickened.

The room felt denser and darker, as if the very joy of their meeting had been sucked from the space quite violently, but the very discussion of the war had hung between them all this time, like a taboo unlike any other. They discussed grief and loss, sometimes in great detail and with Harry mourning deeply in the privacy of their homes, but not once had they discussed the allocation of blame or the parts they played, and Severus could not help but feel the years of resentment build up within him. He began to pour the potion to steady himself.

“You don’t excuse yourself,” said Harry. “Why excuse them?”

“I was a half-blood and an only child,” muttered Severus coldly. “You are insulting students whose entire _families_ were often Death Eaters. Did you truly expect them to fight? The majority of such students remained _neutral_ , for which you mocked them and _still_ mock them, as if they are somehow traitors or as bad as the Death Eaters themselves. Did it _never_ occur to you that – by asking them to fight – you were asking them to turn wands upon friends, siblings, even _parents_? Could _you_ kill a loved one, even in war?

“My students were the first to leave their dormitories, just as they were the first to break rules to gain necessary equipment to fight back and to defend themselves, and they were the ones that set traps to overcome the Death Eaters. You accuse them of cowardice! Those that fought were brave enough to fight their _only_ support base and _only_ loved ones, _siding_ with those that belittled them for years, whilst those that remained neutral chose not to betray their families or to equally support a vicious dictator. These were not cowards. These were not Death Eaters. These were children that _I_ raised, that _I_ watched grow, and that I _know_ to be good people . . . children that _died_ before their lives began. Tell me again what you think of them!”

Severus slammed his hands down hard enough that the row of vials rattled, and he was forced to clench his fists tightly and look down in embarrassment. It was true that he was not one to remain calm, as well as having a short-fuse, but he strove to maintain an image and that image was shattered with the revelation that he _cared_ about his students, especially when he realised that could be used against him, and – the fundamental thing he learned as a Death Eater was that – it was dangerous to reveal weaknesses to people.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry.

It was then that he felt Harry move around the table. The younger man looked only halfway apologetic, as if he were caught between speaking out in protest and smiling in a consoling manner, unable to know how to feel or what to say. There was little to resent him for, as he understood how Harry would feel angry at hearing those he learned to hate defended, but Harry was also an intelligent and fair man, so that he would eventually be able to reconcile his perception with the truth. It would just take time for him to understand.

They remained in silence for a long moment, until Harry leaned against the table and faced the opposite direction to Severus, and – with a slight pause – the two men eventually turned to look at one another. Harry crossed his arms over his chest, as if he forced back the urge to reach out like he would for one of his friends, and Severus appreciated the forethought and respect for his person, as many – like Albus in past, like the Dark Lord of late – never afforded him such liberties, even with his own body, and he realised that Harry was far more respectful than he ever gave him credit for in their youth. Severus raised a hand to his temple and massaged lightly in frustration, before nodding briefly in acknowledgement.

“I apologise for my temper,” muttered Severus.

“Don’t be,” replied Harry. “It’s actually nice to hear you say sorry. I never heard it during school, even now it’s pretty rare to hear, but trust _you_ to make the first time you apologise to be for the _one_ thing you were pretty justified in getting angry about.”

“You do realise that we are very different people, Harry.”

“I think we’re more similar than you think.”

Harry let his hand slide across the table towards Severus’, where it rested only a few millimetres from his fingers . . . it was a clear attempt at intimacy and reassurance, which touched Severus in a way he was reluctant to admit. He sighed and let his finger move to lightly contact his partner’s skin, where Harry took the hint and slowly took his hand, so that the two held onto each other intimately. The younger man felt somewhat cold to the touch, whilst he held onto Severus’ weak hand, so that it was difficult to hold back, but the gesture was appreciated nonetheless and Severus felt contented, until what came next . . .

“I need time to think,” said Harry.

“I understand. It was clear from the start that this was a relationship doomed to end badly, as what could possibly hold you to the greasy bat from the dungeons? I apologise if my sympathies towards the Slytherin house offended you in some way.”

“Oh, you have to be flipping joking! Not this again! This is not -!”

“Eloquent as always, are you not?”

Harry silenced him with a kiss. It was chaste and gentle, but those lips felt so soft against his own and reminded him of the affection that was not afforded to him throughout the decades, and he craved for something more that he never realised he needed. Severus returned it with a burning need, until he tasted the other man and felt his rough tongue push back, and soon they were forced to pull away before the kiss had even fully begun, lest it overwhelm them and continue into something more. They didn’t need the distraction during such seriousness.

“You take time alone to think all the time,” Harry snapped.

“My _thinking_ is not a rare occurrence or something to be noted.”

“Yes, well, I am _not_ breaking up with you. You just gave me a lot to consider and I just want some time to process it all. Look, when I get back . . . you _did_ say you would consider discussing progressing our relationship a little more. It’d distract from all this -”

“Maudlin cynicism? I quite agree.”

“Well, that’s something.”

Harry smiled and placed a kiss to Severus’ lips again, although this time it was a mere peck and nothing more, so that he was able to pull away with a nervous smile and a blush, as he looked to the floor awkwardly, perhaps unsure and nervous about the response he could potentially receive. Severus sighed and looked at him coldly. He did not appreciate his partner being so awkward around him, as if he could not be trusted, but it was then that Harry cleared his throat and spoke warmly towards him.

“I love you, Severus,” said Harry.

“I _abide_ you, Potter.

Severus smiled as Harry burst out into laughter. The younger man looked to him under heavy eyelashes and gave an awkward expression of contentment, before he walked around Severus and headed towards the laboratory door, and looked kindly to Severus, even as there was a spark of frustration and pain to his eyes, but they had gradually come to a fragile state of trust, and – as such – they would work through their issues. It would be fine.

“See you soon, love,” said Harry.

“Indeed,” replied Severus.


End file.
